


There Can Be Only...

by RenkonNairu



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, Gen, Nick is Robin Hood, Nick is a faerie prince, Robin Goodfellow - Freeform, Robin Hood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenkonNairu/pseuds/RenkonNairu
Summary: One thing Nick never told Judy is that he's the descendent of Robin Hood.





	1. All Things Hooded

An arrow sailed through the air and stuck in the fox's back. A red fox vixen. The Countess of Huntington. She went down, spitting blood from her mouth. Her three Cucullati reacted just a little to slowly. Two of them -a brown bear and a striped rabbit- throwing themselves between her bleeding body and the direction from which the arrow had come. The third jumped out of the window, sprinting after the shooter from the opposite building. 

Running so fast the hood was thrown back from his head to reveal another red fox. Older. With graying fur around the muzzle and intense emerald eyes burning with a determination of purpose. 

He reached the sniper's roost. The evidence of the shooter having been there laying in wait for a long time before his target wandered into range. Empty coffee cans and bags of buggo-chips. Evidence of the shooter, but not the shooter himself. The sniper had fled the moment the arrow connected with the Countess' open and unprotected back. 

Stupid. 

He was stupid. They had done a sweep of the room, but failed to check the surrounding buildings -or at the very least, the windows- for possible threat. 

The earbud in his ear crackled, a half-second warning before the voice of one of his fellow Genii Cucullati asked, “You get the doer, John?”

The fox tapped his earbud to respond. “No. He split before I even got here. How's Huntington?”

The channel was silent a little to long and John knew he wasn't going to like the answer even before the voice on the other side said, “Dead. Pierced her heart and was tipped with iron. Bit of an overkill, really.” Because it was said that the only way to kill a fae was with iron. “John... without Huntington, there's only one descendent left...”

“I know.” The red fox growled, holding down the button on his ear piece. 

“Marian Longstride's son.” Continued the one on the other line. 

“I know!” The fox snarled back. 

There was silence over the channel and the red fox, John, was glad for it as he started back to the hotel. They would have to call Scotland Yard and report the death of the Countess. That would be sticky. He should probably leave before they arrived at the scene. Otherwise they would request he stay in town while they investigated. But that would mean there would be no one to protect or even warn the last descendant. 

In fact, he should just head straight to the air port. Not even go back to the hotel room. 

John tapped his earbud again. “Jack, can you handle the local LEOs for me? I'm heading straight for Zootopia.”

“Not even stopping to catch your breath, I see.” The rabbit's voice came back. Even to spite the graveness of their current situation, there was still a small measure of humor in the statement. Jack knew the fox had other reasons for not wanting to delay in rushing off to the last descendent's side. While the last living descendant of the Robin under the Hood was the son of Marian Longstride, he was also the son of John Wilde. “Tell Nicky I said 'hi'.”

…

One of the electronic store's front windows was smashed in. A half of a red brick already sported a numbered evidence tag just inside the shattered pane. Judy stared at the yellow plastic tag for a moment, realizing that it implied that she was late to the crime scene. Officer Judy Hopps of the ZPD was almost never late!

And Officer Nick Wilde was almost never on time. 

But when the bunny opened the store's door, she found her fox partner's face plastered on every TV and video screen still in the shop. The actual fox himself, was in the back of the store, staring into one of the demo-cameras, reciting a monologue from some cop-drama Judy couldn't recall seeing. 

She walked right up to him. “What are you doing.”

“Hey, Carrots, you made it!” Nick beamed down at her, his vulpine lips curling upwards into a smirk. “Just in time for the paperwork. I already cracked this case. The burglar was a raccoon -no jokes- approximately two-six, with a nick in one ear. Goes by the name 'Clank'. -He also cheats at Scrabble.”

Judy crossed her arms over her chest and fixed him with a skeptical stare. “The robbery happened in the middle of the night with no witnesses. How could you possibly know all that?”

That sly vulpine smirk extended even further into a full blown grin of triumph. “Ah... you see, I had a Mammal on the inside!”

Nick reached a paw behind the camera he'd just been monologueing into and withdrew a generic and unassuming bunny plushie. He wiggled the stuffed toy down at her, moving the plushie's paw so that it was waving at the bunny officer. 

“Ya see, I figured in a store filled with cameras, there had to be at least one that was still turned on and running last night.” The fox explained. He flipped the stuffed bunny around and pulled its back open to reveal a small domestic spy-cam. “I present to you the nanny cam N-800 Model 101, not to be confused with the T-800 from Terminator. This little bunny cam caught the whole thing on tape. I called Fangmyre a little before you showed up and told her where she could find Clank.”

“And how do you know he cheats at Scrabble?” Her arms were still crossed, but even Judy had to be impressed by that little bit of inductive reasoning. 

“I told you, I know everybody.” Nick only scoffed. He closed the back of the bunny nanny cam, turning its head up to look at him. “Good work, Officer N-800. Its time to come home.”

Judy rolled her eyes. 

But her partner wasn't done there. Nick turned the stuffed bunny back around to face her and lowered his voice an octave to sound a bit more like Finnick. He wiggled the bunny plushie in the real bunny's face as he voiced. “I've been on the inside so long... I don't know if I can return to a normal life. If only there was a gentle... soft... doe-bunny to ease my-”

“Alright. I'm walking away.” Judy turned around and marched off to find the store owner to make sure Nick remembered to take his statement, and if the fox hadn't to do it herself. 

“Officer Hopps!” Nick called after her in his low, gravely 'undercover stuffed bunny' voice. “I need you. Don't abandon me!”

When she didn't turn back around the fox gave up the joke and stowed the nanny cam away in an evidence bag, all while keeping an appreciative eye on the his bunny partner's backside. If someone had told Nick Wilde a year ago that he would be enjoying the view of short, curvy, and round bunny butt with its stubby little fluff-tail that he just wanted to pinch sometimes, he'd tell them that they were crazy -or needed to lay off the nip. But here he was, drinking in the sight.

Perhaps she felt his eyes on her, because as the store owner was recounting his narrative of coming to open the shop in the morning, she turned her head slightly. Giving the fox a questioning look. As if to ask, 'Do you need something?'

Nick swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and tugged on the collar of his uniform. Yeah, he needed something alright. He needed someone to smack some sense into him before the day finally came when he made an ass of himself in front of his partner -or worse, to his partner. 

The fox cleared his throat. “I'll just head back to the station. See if Fang's already got out perp ready for booking.”

…

Loath though she was to admit it, Judy had to begrudgingly concede that Nick was right. She had arrived just in time to do the paperwork. Both at the electronic store, and back at Precent One. After taking the store owner's full statement and logging a few extra pieces of evidence -such as the brick used to smash the window- Judy returned to the station to find their raccoon burglar -no jokes- already in the holding cell. 

“Aw, c'mon, Nick!” The raccoon groaned from behind the bars. Groaned, as if his arrest was just some prank between friends. 

The fox just shook his head smiling ruefully. “I told you, you keep cheating at Scrabble, you'll end up behind bars one day. Now look at you.”

“Is this because I tried to play 'cucullati'?” The raccoon pressed. “C'mon, it was just eleven points!” A pause. “And a triple word score. It was just thirty-three points.” 

Judy came up between them. “One, we're not arresting you because you cheat at boardgames. Two, 'cucal'-whatever isn't a word.”

“Sure it is.” Insisted the raccoon. “Just ask foxy over here. His species has the market cornered on all things hooded.”

Nick banged a fist against the bars, rattling them enough to make enough noise to startle several Mammals passing by. “That's enough outta you.”

Clank took a step back deeper into the holding cell. 

Judy looked up at him, confused. “What is a 'cucullati'?”

Nick huffed, as if it were the most inconvenient and irritating thing in the world to have to explain. “'Cucullati' refers to the Genii Cucullati.” He said. “They're sort of hooded guardian spirits...”

He trailed off as if there was more to it but suddenly realized as he started talking that he really didn't want to talk about it. Instead he changed gears. 

The fox smiled down at his partner. The kind of sweet, gentle, and unassuming smile Judy had learned to associate with him knowing he was about to dump a whole bunch of long and tedious busy work on her and not caring one bit. “Now, Carrots, seeing as how we're partners and -all things being equal- I was first on the scene, I cracked the case, and I arrested the suspect. It's only fair that you finish up the paperwork and make sure it gets filed into the system.”

And there it was. 

The bunny smiled back at him. The kind of sweet, gentle, and unassuming smile Judy was hoping that he was learning to associate with her being about to intentionally make him uncomfortable. “Sure thing, Sweetheart.” She said. “But it's gonna cost ya.”

Nick suddenly looked wary. He was learning. “Oh yeah...? What price am I gonna have to pay?”

“Dinner. On you.” The bunny smiled up at him. A true smile this time. His calm facade cracked for just a second before he slid his 'too cool for school' mask back into place. Judy took advantage of the slip-up, dog-piling on his facade's weakness. “At your place.”

The fox choked. 

The raccoon in the holding cell raised an eyebrow. “Uh, is that ethical? I mean, you are work colleagues... right? Are officers allowed to fraternize outside of work?”

“You hush!” Both fox and bunny snapped in near perfect unison. They were locked in the throws of 'relationship-chicken' and couldn't allow for distraction -lest one of them blink and swerve out of the path of the on-coming other one. 

Nick's eyes brightened, his mouth splitting into a smirk as he accepted the newest challenge in their on-going, unspoken battle of stubbornness. “Alright, Carrots. Dinner, on me, my place -tonight. I'll leave my tie on if you bring your handcuffs.”

Judy blinked at the insinuation. But recovered quickly. “Alright. I'll bring my cuffs -if I can still wear my uniform.”

The raccoon looked from one officer to the other, suddenly wondering if he had been legitimately arrested by real police. Or if he'd just stumbled into the line of fire for a deviant couple's role-play foreplay. 

“So, our usual after work routine then.” Nick nodded. “Plus dinner at my place.”

…

Judy offered to hold the take-out bags while Nick fished in his pocket for his keys. 

“So, why wouldn't you let someone use 'cucullati' in Scrabble?” Judy asked spontaneously. 

Did his paw jerk while trying to slide the key into the lock? Actually, yes. The bunny was pretty sure it did. Whatever his issue was, Nick recovered quickly. “Its not an English word. You can't use foreign words in Scrabble.”

“Mm.” She nodded, watching how his tail swished in irritation. She loved the way he fidgeted when he was slightly inconvenienced or uncomfortable. If her parents knew she was ogling the slender and trim bottle-brush of a fox's backside, they'd faint from mortification. Judy decided to take a chance on possibly making him more uncomfortable. “Is it a Robin Hood thing?”

He dropped his keys trying to put them back in his pocket. “What? Why would you say that?”

The bunny shrugged. “Hoods... foxes... I think its a logical conclusion to jump to.”

“Don't do that.” He shook his head, avoiding eye-contact.

“What? Make logical deductions using the inductive reasoning they taught me at the academy?” She smiled up at him. If there was a smug challenge in that smile, Nick did not take the bate. 

“Jump to conclusions.” The fox corrected. Then, before his partner could say another word on the matter, he cut her off before the bunny even had the chance. “And I don't wanna talk about Genii Cucullati or Robin Hood, okay? At all. Ever. In fact, no Hoods in general. Hoods have nothing to do with me.”

Judy had to wonder at, not only the odd specificity of that statement, but also the sheer passion with which he said it. But neither of them got the chance to say more on the subject. Nick opened his door and they stepped into his apartment to find someone sitting on Nick's couch. 

A fox dressed all in green. Commando-style pants of a dark uniform green, with hooded vest in a deeper forest green. The hood drawn up over his head -obscuring his face. 

Both fox and bunny froze at finding an intruder in Nick's -locked- apartment. 

Judy nearly dropped the takeout bags, just barely remembering to set them down gently on the floor as she went for her dart-gun. The weapon was barely out of its holster when the stranger stood, lowering his hood to reveal the face of a red fox who looked almost identical to Nick. Several years older than her partner, fur graying around the muzzle, the emerald green eyes were nearly identical to Nick's own. He looked hard and serious, even as his mouth split into a friendly smile. 

“Hi, son.” He said.


	2. Parent Problems

“Hi, son.” Said the intruder.

For a second time, Judy froze. Son?

“John.” Nick nodded stiffly. “How'd you get in here?”

“The unlocked balcony door, the open bathroom window, or maybe your hide-a-key under the mat. Take your pick. You're not exactly living in the most secure place in the world.” The intruder -Nick's father? -John? -Judy's brain was having something of a mini-melt down as it tried to process what it was seeing exactly- the fox stood from the couch, taking a step forward as if to close the space between him and Nick, arms open for a hug. 

Nick wasn't in a hugging mood, it seemed. He sidestepped the older fox's open arms. Garbing one and twisting it around John's back in a hold he'd learned at the academy, Nick started steering his father towards the still open door. “Thanks for the security lesson. But its time for you to go now.”

“Wait. This is important.” But the older tod dug his heels in, refusing to be pushed through the door. He pushed at the doorframe and tried to twist around in his son's grasp. That was when he seemed to finally take actual notice of what the younger fox was wearing. His uniform. His police uniform. “What's with the costume? Is this another one of your adorable little hustles?”

Judy was about to step up and support her partner. Informing the intruder that it wasn't a costume or a hustle. Nick was real cop, a really good cop, actually. But her fox didn't seem interested in any of that being explained to his father. 

“See, if you'd bothered to keep up with me and my life, you'd already know the answer to that question.” Growled the younger tod, finally succeeding in pushing the intruder out of the apartment. 

He was about to slam the door in John's face when the older fox stuck his foot out, to hold the door open. Nick ended up slamming the door on his father's foot instead. To John's credit, he didn't make a sound in pain. Just winced, sucking air between his teeth before asking, “This con you're pulling dressed as a cop, you got a bullet-proof vest to go with it?”

That was an odd question. Nick paused long enough to raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

Judy came up beside him, suspicious, territorial, and protective. “Sir, are you threatening an officer of the ZPD?”

John looked down at the bunny -also wearing a police uniform- as if seeing her for the first time and he had to wonder what his son was doing with a bunny in costume in his apartment. “Who's she?”

“My partner.” Nick cut Judy off before she could proudly flash her badge and announce herself as Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD. 

“I thought you were runnin' with that fennec fox, what's-his-name.”

“Once again, if you kept in touch, you'd know these things.” Nick resumed his efforts to pushed the door closed and lock his father out. 

John pushed back, determined to get in one final word before it was slammed shut in his face. “Just- If you've got a bullet-proof vest -a real one- wear it. Please. I can explain why if you-”

“You can explain why in your semi-annual late-birthday card.” Nick snarled. “Tell Uncle Jack and Uncle Skip I said 'hi'.”

Finally, the younger fox succeeded in closing the door. Practically slamming it right on his father's nose. Then -for good measure- he bolted it and slid the security chain into place. Paused for a moment. Peered out the peep-hole. Glared. Waited. Glared some more. Then finally relaxed. Shoulders slumping, he rested his forehead against the door with a sigh. 

Coming up beside him, Judy placed -what she hoped- was a comforting paw on his side, just bellow the ribs. It was a bit of an intimate place to touch, but given their height difference, it was also easily explainable and excusable. She certainly wasn't taking advantage of his emotional distress to cop a feel. (If she was gonna inappropriately grope anything, it would be that long slender bottle-brush tail of his.)

“I've never heard you talk about your father.” She said, hoping her tone was comforting, soothing and supportive -not burning with curiosity. “I always just assumed he was dead.”

She waited to see what kind of witty retort he'd come back with. Something light to brush off her concern. 'No, he's not dead -well, not yet.' or 'Sure. Because a pawpsicle hustling street-fox must also be an orphan, right?' Instead, he pushed off the door, picked up their takeout bags from where she had set them down and disappeared into his small kitchenette. 

“I don't talk about my father.”

He said it with such a finality that not only did Judy recognize that he didn't want her to push the issue, but she also wondered if she even should. But whether Nick wanted to talk about his father or not, Judy did want to talk about the older fox's odd -and concerning- request. 

“Why would he ask you to wear your tactical vest?”

“See, that would be talking about him.” Nick came back out of the kitchen carrying two plates, each holding equal portions of their take-out divided between the two. He set them both down on the coffee table, along with forks and napkins. That was a change. Usually, they just ate right out of the styrofoam containers and picked off each others plates. He sat down and started eating without waiting for her. 

Judy came around to sit next to him, picking up her own plate. It was nice having a partner whom -to spite being a predator- was also a vegetarian. It made choosing restaurants and agreeing on communal entrees much easier. 

They ate in a silence that was only awkward because it was so silent. Usually, Nick would put on a stupid 90s comedy, that neither of them would admit they secretly loved, to fill the silence while they ate. Or if not a show or a movie, then at least turn on the TV's Pandora app and play some jazz or other 'easy listening' genre. This time, the only sound to fill the silence of their meal was the sound of vegetables crunching between teeth -both flat and sharp. 

Finally, Judy couldn't stand it anymore. She had to say something. 

“Are you in danger? Could he have been warning you?”

Nick paused, mid-crunch. Then resumed chewing. Swallowed. Took another bite. Chewed. 

She huffed in frustration at the stubborn fox. “Okay, I get that you don't want to talk about him, and if I'd never met him, I probably wouldn't pester you. But when I'm present to witness an intruder show up in your home claiming to be your father and then proceed to tell you to put on a freaking bullet-proof vest as if someone's out there gunning for you, I think I'm entitled to an explanation.”

“Prey are always so entitled.” He muttered. 

Judy stared at him -anger suddenly boiling in her blood. He played the 'prey card'. She would have though they were past all that. After everything they'd been thought, she would have thought that he knew that she- 

-That she would totally get distracted and derailed if he played the 'prey card'. Sly fox. Well, she wasn't gonna play the dumb bunny this time. 

“I'm gonna let that slide, Slick Nick.” She growled. 

“I don't talk about my father.” He repeated. 

“Nick!”

“Let it go, Carrots. John Wilde doesn't concern you.”

“Nick!” She said again, more earnestly this time. Screw relationship-chicken, this was important! The bunny set her plate down and crawled onto her fox's lap, straddling his narrow hips -startling him. But she didn't give him time to utter an exclamation of shock, never mind a protest. She grabbed the sides of his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. Verdant emerald green to impossibly deep amethyst. “I'm worried about you. Are. You. In. Danger?”

Silence stretched between them. 

His mask was firmly in place. Expression neutral. Unreadable. 

She didn't care. She held his gaze. Glaring at him. Willing him to understand that she cared about him as more than just her partner on the force and that if he was in trouble he didn't have to go through it alone. He could turn to her for help. She wanted to help him. 

Finally, the fox sighed. 

Nick set his own plate of food down so that he could use both paws to grab hold of Judy's round bunny hips and lift her off his lap. He set her back in her spot next to him and shifted his grip to the much less intimate placement of her shoulders. 

“My father... its complicated.” He turned away from her, rubbing a paw over his muzzle in frustration as if not being able to find an easy way to explain thirty-two years of inconsistency and unreliability. Finally, Nick offered, “John goes through bouts of paranoia. I remember -after my mother died- he would have me sleep under my bed instead of in it. He would try and play it off like a game, like building a pillow fort out of the couch cushions, sleeping under the bed. But...”

He trailed off.

Judy hesitated, feeling very similar early in their friendship. In the skytram over the Canopy, when he told her about his experience with the Junior Rangers. She placed her paw on his arm the same as she did then. “That must have been hard for you. Does he suffer from schizophrenia, or something?”

The fox barked out a humorless laugh. “I wish! If only it were so easy. That's at least something normal.”

With that, Nick picked his plate back up and began shoveling food into his mouth as if he'd never eaten before in his life. 

Judy leaned back into the couch. She had a feeling that was all she was going to get out of him on the subject of his father for the rest of the night. 

…

On nights when they ate dinner together, Judy usually stayed late. They'd watch a movie, or marathon through an entire season of whatever show they got each other hooked on. But after the unexpected and unwanted visit of his father, Nick wasn't really in a mood to entertain. Not even entertain an adorable little bunny partner that legitimately cared about him and worried about his wellbeing -not just physical wellbeing, but mental and emotional as well. 

No vixen ever cared for him the way Judy did. 

Well, obviously his mother cared for his physical, mental, and emotional well being. Ardently and unconditionally. But she passed away when he was twelve. Besides, it was a different kind of caring. Since he'd become an adult and discovered that females didn't actually have cooties, no vixen had ever cared for him the same way or to the same extent that, that little doe-bunny cared about him. 

...And maybe he never really cared for any vixen the way he cared for Judy. 

The fact that she wasn't even the same species as him was actually a huge mark in her favor too -since Nick had vowed years ago that he would never have any natural offspring of his own and never continue his bloodline. But thoughts of his bloodline inevitably brought him back to thoughts of his parents and after having John show up unexpectedly, he knew he was in for a long night of brooding -something he did not want an audience for. 

As soon as they were both finished with their dinner, Nick -as politely as he could- asked her to leave. 

She hesitated and he thought for a moment that she was going to challenge him on it. Say she didn't feel right leaving him alone. Offer herself as a sympathetic ear if he wanted to vent. But that would involve him talking about his father, which was something Nick didn't do. He learned at a very young age, that repeating the things his father told him made other Mammals think he was crazy -and now that Nick himself was grown and knew the difference between fantasy and reality, even he agreed it was all crazy. 

So, he made Judy leave. 

Bolting the door after her and sliding the security chain into place. 

He watched her through the peep hole. Biting her lower lip in a way that was so much more appealing than it should be. Pink bunny nose twitching so cutely. She raised a paw as if to knock and ask to be let back in. Though better of it. Lowered the paw without knocking. Finally she left, and Nick relaxed. 

But he didn't stay relaxed for long. 

He locked the balcony door and drew the shade -seriously, he was on the twelfth floor. He shouldn't have to lock his balcony! Then he closed the open bathroom window. It was a cruel world when a male was forced to block the flow of fresh air though his bathroom. 

Then he paused, realizing he was acting out of his father's paranoia, not because there actually was a need to do these things. Nick reopened his bathroom window and unlocked his balcony door. 

Then he spent the next hour wondering if every sound he heard was John sneaking back in, and jumping at every shadow, every movement out of the corner of his eye as the wind rustled his curtains. Finally, he decided that it wasn't paranoid to lock the balcony or close the window -it would give him peace of mind. So he closed and locked everything back up -even going so far as to take his spare key out from under the mat outside. 

Sitting back down on the couch, Nick chastised himself for how silly he was being. 

He tried to watch a couple episodes of Savana Nine-nine, but couldn't quite seem to allow himself to be distracted by the situation comedy-cop drama. Finally, he gave up on having a pleasant evening all together and retreated back to his bedroom. 

Flicking on the light, Nick glared at his unmade bed, a memory of his youth rising unbidden to the forefront of his mind. 

Not long after his mother passed away. 

'Hey, boyo, you wanna have a sort of slumber party tonight. Just the two of us.' 

Nick was twelve and already a master of closing himself off and not letting how much he was really hurting show. But after his mother's passing he tried to latch on and cling to his father. So, the little pre-teen kit agreed. 'Sure.'

'Lets make a fort under the bed. It'll be fun!'

Nick helped his father clear all his toys, dirty laundry, discarded textbooks and rotting food-waste out from under the bed. His mother would have had a fit at see the near squaller Nick had effectively hidden by shoving under the bed -his version of 'cleaning his room'. If Marian Wilde was there, she would have grounded him on the spot. 

But all John did was tell his son to go ask Uncle Jack to bring in some trash bags.

'Uncle' Jack wasn't really Nick's uncle. That was just what he grew up calling him. Jack was a bunny -or a hare, Nick was never really to sure on that- and one of John's friends from -whatever it was that he did for work, no one ever actually told Nick what his father did for a living. 

As soon was under the bed was clean enough to satisfy John that his son wouldn't be breathing in any dust -or other less innocent spores that could collect under furniture- he arranged a camping mat and sleeping bag under the bed. Then -and this was the odd part of the memory- he arranged the blankets on top of Nick's bed to make it look like the little kit was still sleeping on top of the mattress. Even going so far as to use one of Nick's stuffed toys that he no longer played with to simulate one of his dark-tipped ears sticking out from under the blanket. 

He put far more effort into the fake-Nick on top of the bed, than he did the accommodations for real-Nick that was going to be sleeping on the floor under the bed. 

Shaking his head, today-Nick forced the memory from his mind with a conscious effort. 

“Paranoid old coot.” He growled to himself and began stripping out of his uniform. He wasn't neat about where he put it, letting everything lay where it fell on the floor. Some habits just never went away. In many ways, Nick was still that little kit who's mother never quiet succeeded in teaching him how to keep a space clean and his clothes unwrinkled. 

In just his boxers, the fox crawled into bed, laid his head on the pillow, and fained sleep in the hopes that the pretense would give way to the real thing. 

Real sleep didn't come unfortunately. His mind keeping him wide awake, playing images and memories of his youth. 

His mother helping him tie the kerchief of his Ranger Scout uniform. His father watching from the doorway making unsolicited comments that the Junior Rangers were just kits and calfs playing at being rangers. If Nicky wanted to be a 'real ranger' then he should let John give him a bit of Cucullati training.

Hiding from John when his father came to pick him up afterwards, the older tod finding him easily to spite his efforts -following the sound of his sniffles, or the scent of his tears. His father lifting him up onto his shoulders and telling him stories of the greatest fox in all Mammal history, the noble-outlaw Robin of the Hood. He was more than just a mere Mammal. I was said the Hooded Fox had magic. The power of the Trickster fae, the Goblin Hob, Lord of the Greenwood, Robin Goodfellow. 

A gentle paw brushing tears away from his face as his mother tried to comfort him. 'If ever you feel scared or vulnerable, draw a line across your heart. Pull it tight and let it go.' She pantomimed the poses of drawing a bow. 'Send your fears flying far away.'

Frustrated that sleep was continuing to evade him, Nick got back up out of bed. 

Crouching down on the floor, he pulled something out from under his bed. A long wooden case. The last gift John gave him before his father split for Europe, leaving a still teenaged Nick to fend for himself in the city. An heirloom from his mother's side of the family -the Longstride side. Unclasping the latches on the case, he lifted the lid to reveal a vintage wooden bow. Hand made from European yew and carved with intricate designs of foxes fighting wolves and lion. According to John, it was supposed to tell the story of Robin of the Hood, but Nick had already stopped caring about the Hood story by that point in his life. 

Pulling the bow out from its case, the fox strung it with a deftness and expertise of one who'd been trained from a young age. Standing, Nick pulled the string, lining up a shot. Drawing the string across his heart and pulling it tight. If he'd had an arrow, the bolt would be aimed out his bedroom window directly at the irritating neighbor who left their light on all night. 

“This is stupid.” He muttered, lowering the bow. “I'm so stupid.”

Unstringing it, Nick packed the archaic weapon back in its case and slid it back under his bed. His father always seemed to have this affect on him. 

Crawling back into bed, Nick willed himself to fall asleep. 

He stayed awake for a log time still after that but the fox refused to get back out of bed. What would he do if he did anyway? Nick pulled the blankets up over his head, feeling very much like a confused and insecure little kit again. 

The last conscious thought he had was of his father lifting him up onto his shoulders after the traumatic Junior Ranger meeting. 'Stay strong, boyo. You're more powerful than they can even dream of. Its not every kit than can claim the bloodline of Robin of the Hood.'

…

“You look terrible! Are you okay?” Judy blinked wide, concerned eyes at him when Nick entered the bullpen, just barely on time. 

He climbed up onto their shared chair and heaved a loud yawn. “Couldn't sleep last night.”

She put a comforting paw on his knee, an intimate gesture for two Mammals whom were supposed to be just friends and colleagues. “Did your father come back after I left?”

Nick cast her a dark look, as if to say 'we went through this last night'. “I don't talk about him, remember. But, no, he did not. Thankfully.”

That was the point when Bogo entered with the day's assignments and the fox had never been happier to see the cape buffalo. If the Chief hadn't entered at that exact moment, Judy might have pressed the issue and Nick did not want to get into an argument in the middle of the bullpen -because that's what talking about his John Wilde always lead to. Arguments and hurt feelings. 

“Alright, everybody, quiet down.” A pause. “Shut it!”

A hush fell over the crowd. There was a slight scraping of chairs as the last few officers still standing took their seats. Slowly the Chief handed out cases and the other officers filed out of the room until there were only four of them left. 

“Wolford, Delgato, break-in at the City Records office.” The wolf and lion both stood to take the red case file. “There'll be a lot of hard copies to go through, so take Hopps and Wilde with you.”

The wolf and lion looked back at the fox and bunny. There was a pause in which the four of them stared at each other, then the senior officers shrugged. “Let's get going then.”

Unfortunately, Judy -being Judy- had to protest. “Sir, Nick and I can handle our own case. I know he looks a little rumpled this morning, but he can still do his job.”

The fox put what he imagined was a restraining paw on her shoulder. He yawned. Then let his characteristic smirk play across his lips. “Carrots, you're misunderstanding. The Chief isn't saying we're still too new and green to have our own case, he's saying Wolfie and El Gato are so old that they need the help of our young eyes and strong constitutions.”

Both Wolford and Delgato glared at the fox, not at all appreciating his assessment of their abilities. They might have been more experienced at the job, but neither of them were actually all that much older than Nick himself. The fox was thirty-two. Wolford and Delgato were thirty-six and thirty-three, respectively. 

But his comment did get the bunny to stand down and fall in line. The four of them filed out of the bullpen. 

“Don't think we're gonna let that comment slide, Wilde.” Delgato muttered once they were out of the Chief's hearing.

“I wouldn't expect you to.” Nick muttered back. 

“Hey, why don't we all take one car to the Records building.” Wolford suggested. “Wilde, you and Hopps can ride in the back!”

Nick's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the larger canid. 

“I can't tell if you're making a small Mammal joke, or a fox joke.” Because the backseat would -theoretically- be safer than riding shotgun for smaller Mammals like himself and Judy, but also because he was a fox and foxes were -statistically- perpetrators and rode in the backseat. “Either way, I think I'm insulted.” 

Judy pushed between the three of them, already twirling the keys to the cruiser she'd checked out for herself and Nick around her paw. “If I have to sit through one more Mammal Sensitivity seminar because you three can't be civil, I think I just might start kicking kneecaps.”

The threat amused Nick because she was -essentially- adopted into a mafia family and they had a certain tradition about kneecaps. But he also knew that his bunny didn't think like that. She was the smallest Mammal on the force and another officer's kneecaps would be the easiest target for her to reach without help or acrobatics. Still, Nick found it amusing. 

“Hey, Carrots, ya know what goes great with kneecaps? Ice!” He smiled at his own double entendre. Because 'ice' was what Mr. Big did to Mammals who crossed him, but it was also what you would put on a sore kneecap. 

Judy got both his meanings instantly and rolled her eyes. “I see you're finally awake. C'mon. We'll meet Wolford and Delgato at City Records. Maybe then the three of you will be able to get along.”

She exited the building to find their assigned car, all the while muttering some very colorful things about 'males', and 'it doesn't matter what species'.

“Well, guys, you heard the missus. Looks like I have to play nice.” Nick had to sprint to catch up to her. “See you at our crime scene.”

…

Watching from a rooftop across the street, John Wilde couldn't believe what he was seeing. His son, Nicky, whom had spent the last twenty years or so skating on the edges of legality, swindling, manipulating, and just generally taking advantage of other Mammals was now -suddenly and miraculously- a cop. He switched sides more suddenly and unexpectedly than a character on 'Game of Alphas'. 

After being kicked out of his apartment the previous night, John switched to observation and surveillance. Finding a decent spot in the building across from Nick's. He spend most of the night watching his son meander around his apartment like a Mammal who didn't know what to do with himself. At least he was smart enough to close and lock all the windows. John would have been disappointed in his son if he didn't. 

And seeing that Nicky still had the Longstride bow was a welcome sight as well. 

But when the morning came, and Nick put that ridiculous police costume back on, John got concerned. His son always had been a gifted con-Mammal. John always attested it to the blood of the Trickster fae. But if he was running a con as a police officer -or worse, on the city police!- John didn't know if his kit's Trickster blood would be enough to save him if the job went south. 

He watched Nick swagger into the police station as if he owned the place, yawning as he did so -he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. John shook his head. If Nicky had let him stay last night, he would have made sure the younger fox went to bed at a reasonable hour. Once Nick was inside, John had to change his position, moving around the building until he found a vantage point that offered him a view of the interior through a window or skylight. 

The old tod raised a curios brow when he saw his son sharing a seat with the same bunny from the previous night. Was she in on the con? He did call her his 'partner'. 

John sat through a meeting in which a cape buffalo -presumably the Captain who ran the precent, or else a higher ranked officer (what did four stars on the collar mean again?)- handed out red file folders -presumable assignments. 

Finally, Nicky and his bunny stood. 

They bantered with a wolf and a lion as they exited the room and John lost sight of them again. He had to move again before he caught sight of his son again. Sprinting out of the station, hot on that bunny's heels. A bunny whom didn't seem the least bit bothered that there was a fox, not only chasing after her, but gaining on her. 

She unlocked a police cruiser that looked far to large for either of them, rolling her eyes at some comment his son made, and motioned for the fox to get in the passenger side. John watched the squad car pull out of the motor pool, a second squad car holding the wolf and the lion not far behind them and heading in the same direction. 

John didn't know if his son really was a real cop or just pulling an absurdly elaborate con, but either way, he hoped the younger fox was taking advantage of the protective equipment the organization offered its members.


	3. Bolt Out of the Blue

The City Records office was a squat little building attached to City Hall. They had renovated it along with City Hall a few years back to make it more handy-caped and special needs accessible. They kept the old white stone facade, but added in ramps on either side of the stairs for wheelchairs and walkers, covering the concrete inclines in the same white stone as the facade in an attempt to preserve the look of the building. 

Nick ran up one of the ramps just so he could slide back down the paw rail of the stairs -like a little kit. 

“Can you please act your age?” Judy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I am acting my age.” The fox informed her. “This is how thirty-year-old bachelors act.”

Delgato and Wolford came up beside the bunny. 

“And that is why you're still a bachelor, Wilde.” Wolford shook his head in distain. He was a family-wolf. Married for six years and had three pups. 

Delgato was -thus far- also unmarried. But he had at least one girlfriend that they had met -she brought him lunch at the precent one day- and the feline officer occasionally implied that he had other females on the side. Ugh, lions. Nick was the only male of the three of them that had no wife, no girlfriend, and no prospects. That is... unless semi-regularly ogling your female partner's backside counted as a 'prospect'. 

Judy pinched the bridge of her short bunny snout. “Can we all please at least pretend to be professional.”

“Sure. I can pretend.” Nick winked at her, offering a lazy smile.

The four of them entered the Records building and were immediately met by a female oryx in a light gray pantsuit. The plastic ID badge clipped to her blazer identified her as some version of a supervisor. She greeted the larger officers first, shaking the paws of Delgato, then Wolford. She almost didn't notice Judy and Nick until the latter cleared his throat conspicuously. 

“Officer Wilde.” The fox supplied, handing one of his ZPD issued business cards up at the oryx. “This here is my partner, Officer Hopps.” He jabbed a thumb behind him at Wolford and Delgato. “They're with us.”

Never mind that, literally, every other officer there had more seniority than Nick did. 

“Please to meet you.” The oryx said polity. Then turned to lead them to the elevators and down to the basement levels where they stored hard copies. “This is all archives going back forty years. We've been working on converting it all into digital files and going paperless, but as you can see...” she unlocked a door and swung it open for the officers to see. A large cavernous warehouse stretched out in front of them, cold aluminum shelves holding boxes and boxes of files and documents, the only thing distinguishing one from another the small label stickers stuck on their fronts. “...we still have a lot still to do.”

She lead the four of them down the main isle, turned to the side, lead them down that isle, turned again. It was only by the third turn that Nick began to wonder if he should have been scent marking their path. All the isles looked the same down here and he imagined it being difficult to find their way out again without the oryx to guide them. 

As she lead them, the oryx continued her explanation. “Seeing as how these are all non-active files, we don't have as many security cameras down here. Its pretty much just the one covering the elevator. If it wasn't for an after-hours hard-drive access last night, we probably never would have noticed this.”

They finally turned down a row and all four officers could clearly several of the cardboard file boxes were pulled off the shelf, thrown on the floor, their contents spilled all over the place. But that wasn't what they were paying attention to anymore. 

“After hours hard-drive access?” Wolford blinked at the oryx. “What do you mean?”

“Well, ya see, Wolfie,” Nick began an explanation, “a hard-drive is a magical device where young tech-savvy Mammals like Carrots and I store data like music, videos, porn, or -in this case- important civil documents and records.”

The wolf glared down at the fox. He was willing to let the 'old' joke back at the precent slide. But if he kept it up then the small rookie was just begging to get on the seasoned officer's bad side. “I know what a hard-drive is.” He turned back to the oryx. “What I meant was, why didn't you mention this sooner?”

“I was getting to it.” The oryx explained indignantly. 

Wolford pinched the bridge of his snout. “Alright. Wilde, go upstairs and call dispatch -our radios won't work down here. Request a cyber-forensic team. Hopps, go upstairs with him and start interviewing the staff. Start with the last ones the leave last night and the first ones to arrive this morning.” Then he turned to the city records' supervisor. “I assume you keep some kind of inventory of what's supposed to be in each of these boxes? So we can tell if anything's missing and what it is.”

“Of course.” The oryx moved to leave.

The wolf's eyes shifted to Nick and Judy. “Well, what are you two still doing here?”

The bunny was quick to follow orders, the fox paused one defiant moment longer -glaring at the wolf- as if to say, 'You're not the Alpha of me.' (Foxes didn't have “alphas” anyway.) Then he sauntered off after his partner. 

On the way out, he found it wasn't all that had to find the path to the exit. Someone else had scent marked it for him. A musky canid scent. Hmph. Nick looked back at Officer Wolford. Maybe timberwolves weren't all dumb-dumbs after all. 

After radioing for cyber-forensics, Nick went back inside to help his partner with the interviews. 

Judy took the night guards. A hippo and a zebra. Neither of them saw or heard anything. One stayed in the security office all night watching the cameras -or rather, sitting at the desk surrounded by monitors while he watched Game of Alphas- and the other patrolled the floors semi-periodically during commercial breaks. Not exactly the most observant pair in the world. But then, what reason did they have to take their job seriously? How often did someone break into a boning old records office? 

Almost never. That's how often. 

Not unless they were looking for something. 

The hard-drive access was from the cubicle closest to the elevator. A choice of convenience not out of any nefarious connection to the one who worked in said cubicle. A female sloth named Dawn Allen. Judy gave the honor of interviewing her to Nick -since he had so much patience for sloths. Sometimes the fox wondered if his hyper-active bunny partner was still recovering from her first encounter with Flash. 

Nick was doodling in the margin's of his notebook, the sloth still explaining that it was 'Allen' spelled with two Ls, when the cyber-forensic team arrived to take a look at her computer. 

That was also about the time Wolford and Delgato came back upstairs. 

“Oh, good, the geeks are here.” The wolf ruffled the fur between the fox's ears. “Looks like you can be useful after all. Now I need you and Hopps to bring in a Mammal of interest for questioning.”

Pushing Wolford's paw off his head, Nick glared up at the larger canid. “What's this Mammal's connection to the case?”

“Her's is the only file missing from the vandalized box.” Explained the wolf officer, a bit testily. He ripped out a page from his own notebook and lightly slapped it down on the shorter canid's head. “Red fox like you, female. Name: Longstride, first name: Marian. Now grab your bunny and get to it.”

Nick didn't move. He froze the moment the wolf said the name 'Longstride'. The notebook page slipped from his head into his suddenly trembling paws and he stared at his mother's name in the sloppy pawwriting of his colleague. 'Marian Longstride'. 

“Can't.” Nick heard his voice inform the wolf. It was level, even, controlled. It was a good thing his mouth knew what to do. Don't let the other predator see that it got to him. His face was well practice and did it automatically now. Which was good, because on the inside, Nick's brain was having trouble stringing together a single coherent thought. 

Wolford glared down at him. “I can put up with your scathing remarks and intentionally insulting jokes. But I draw the line at insubordination, Wilde. We have a job to do and part of that job is bringing this vixen in for questioning.”

“I get that.” The fox growled back up at him, that near perfect mask of calm indifference wavering ever so slightly. “But I can't. Marian Longstride has been dead for two decades.”

There was a pregnant pause in which the wolf only raised a curious brow. 

“Look, I know not all foxes know each other. So, how could you possibly know that?” Wolford asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because she's my mother!” Nick bit out with a snarl, that waver in his mask of practiced indifference turning into a crack. 

This time the silence was longer. It stretched on for one... two... three beats.

Then Wolford remembered that he was a police officer and recovered. “Alright then. Do you have any idea why someone would want to steal information about your mother?”

Nick remained silent for a moment, working hard to get his mask back in place. That face of indifference he wore whenever he went out and only ever took off on rare occasions for the benefit of his closest friends and his bunny. The fox had spent the great majority of his life on the receiving end of police questioning. But now he was on the other side and he knew his rights. He didn't have to say anything. 

“Pretty sure you shouldn't be interrogating me about this until the Chief takes me off the case.” Nick said finally. “And he will wanna take me off the case. Conflict of interest and all that.” He turned to his partner, interrupting her interview of another of the records office employees. “Hey, Carrots, new development. Turns out we're off the case.”

“What!?” The bunny blinked at him. “Why?”

“Conflict of interest.” The fox explained with mock casualness. “I'll explain in the car.” 

He turned back to give a wink at Wolford. 

Judy glanced from the wolf to her fox, wondering what one might have said to the other to get them taken off the case. She was sure it was something Nick said or did. He had been testing the senior officers' patience since the Chief assigned them the case earlier that morning. But in front of their colleagues and witnesses was not the place to reprimand him for it. So, the bunny followed her fox to their squad car with only a reprimanding glare aimed at his back as her only protest. 

Once they were actually in the car, however, the doors shut firmly after them, then Judy let her displeasure be known.

“What did you do this time?” She demanded. She barely registered that he had claimed the driver's seat and that she -mechanically- took the passenger seat without thinking. 

“I need to swing back by my place before we head back to the station.” He said, pointedly refusing to give any version of an explanation. He moved to turn over the ignition, only to realize that he wasn't the one with the keys. 

Judy dangled the squad car's key's from her tiny paw and smirked at him. “We're not going anywhere until you tell me why we're being taken off this case.”

Nick glared at the keys she was holding just out of his reach, then at her. “Sly bunny.”

“Dumb fox.” She smiled back. 

He sighed, resting his forehead on the steering wheel in defeat. She would find out anyway, it was an open case after all. Nick just didn't like talking about his parents. Either of them. “Whoever broke in here last night stole a file on my mother. Since I'm related to this case, the Chief will wanna take me off as soon as he finds out.”

In all honesty, he expected her reaction to be somewhere between 'That's just means you can't work the case, but I can still help.' and 'Since we're partners when he takes you off too, I'll be taken off with you, go it.' Instead, she looked concerned. Actually worried. That was a surprise. 

Judy's brows came down and she pursed her lips. There was a beat of silence, then in a sobering whisper she asked, “Does this have anything to do with your father?”

“What?” The fox blinked at her. “No. If John needed to know something about my mom he wouldn't need to break into city records. Anything anyone would want to know about her he already knew. They were married for fifteen years.”

“I meant with whatever reason your father had to asking you to wear your tactical vest last night.” She clarified. Judy never thought that John Wilde was the one who broke into the city records building last night. The idea never even crossed her mind. She supposed he could have after leaving Nick's place. But as her fox just pointed out, what reason would he have. Instead, the bunny asked a different question. “Why would someone be looking up information on your late mother?”

Nick had an answer to that question. But he wasn't about to share it with her. The fact that it would sound barking mad aside, the fox honestly didn't think his bunny would either believe him or even understand. Most Mammals just didn't think of the Robin under the Hood the same way foxes did. Another Mammal -not a fox- wouldn't understand how or why if my be significant to be a dependent of the Hood. 

Instead, he deflected the question. “Did my mother work odd jobs to keep the family afloat? Yes, yes she did.” But that had nothing to do with anything. 

“You're not actually gonna tell me, are you?” The bunny crossed her arms over her chest.

“No. No, I am not.”

Her eyes glistened for a moment, shining with an emotion that Nick could have sworn looked suspiciously like betrayal. But she blinked and the expression was gone. Instead, Judy dangled the keys one more time. “Fine. I thought we trusted each other, but clearly I was mistaken. You don't trust me enough to be honest.”

“Carrots, that's not-”

“But since you apparently don't trust me, I have decided not to trust you.” She continued, keys still dangling. “If you won't tell me what's going on, I won't let you go to your apartment before we go back to the station.”

“There's something at my apartment I need to get.” The fox argued. 

“Well, though cookies.” She wasn't gonna budge. 

“Carrots, please.” Nick held out a paw. “Give me the key.”

Judy pulled her paw closer to herself, threatening to drop the keys down the front of her own tactical vest. “What's at your apartment that you need so badly?”

Oh, a couple of things... An ancient bow that was an heirloom of his mother's family, a method for contacting his father (because like hell was Nick gonna actually have the old bastard's number programed into his phone)... “My tactical vest.”

The bunny blinked at him. Her surprise plain for any to see. She didn't hide her feelings anywhere near as well as Nick did. Emotional bunny. Then the concern was quickly back on her face. “Does this has anything to do with that cryptic warning he gave you last night?” 

“I donno.” He admitted. 

“Its just very coincidental.” She continued. “Your father shows up one night out of the blue needing to talk to you and wanting you to start wearing a bulletproof vest, then the very next day, someone breaks into city records to steal information about your mother. It doesn't take any Academy training to figure out that this has something to do with either your father or you.” A pause. “Are you in danger?”

Nick was about to snap out a 'no', assure her that he wasn't in any danger at all. That his father was crazy and the break in at City Records was just a coincidence. But then, he already told her he wanted to swing by his apartment to get his tactical vest, why would he want to grab his vest if he didn't think he was in danger? So a complete denial was out of the question. Instead the fox admitted that maybe his father's insane ravings might have gotten to him. Heaving a heavy sigh, Nick muttered, “I donno.”

Judy's expression softened at his admission. She hesitated half a moment longer. Then passed him the keys. 

The fox took them and turned over the engine, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“Ya know, you don't always have to play the untouchable ice king anymore.” The bunny said once they were out on the road again. “I get that not letting Mammals see they get to you is your coping mechanism, but you don't have to do it with me.” Judy reached across the space between them and placed a paw on his arm. “You're not alone anymore, Nick. You have someone who cares about you.”

If he hadn't been driving, he might have turned to stare at her at that admission. See her expression. Gauge the depth of the 'caring' she was claiming to have. It was great to joke about 'loving' each other. But it was the kind of platonic love between friends. Nick might enjoy the sight of her well curved backside, but he knew where the line was. He knew not to expect anything more from her than what they already had. That should be enough for him. But every now and again she would say or do something that hinted at deeper feelings beyond just platonic. ...and he would be lying if he said the idea of his bunny thinking of him as more than a friend didn't gratify and excite him. 

But he was driving and so couldn't turn to look at her. 

Keeping his expression neutral, the fox shrugged the bunny's paw off his arm. “Don't tung on me while I'm driving, Carrots. What if I accidentally jerked the wheel?”

“But you're sticking with the Ice King routine.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat, once again crossing her ams over her chest. 

Nick pulled up in front of his building, parking along the red painted curb and leaving the hazard lights flashing. 

Judy drummed her fingers on her door handle and glared at him. “Are you gonna ask me to wait in the car now?”

“You can do whatever you want, Carrots.” The fox assured her. 

So the bunny hopped out of the squad car and followed her partner inside. She was, however, respectful enough to wait in the living room while Nick disappeared into the bedroom. As much as she wouldn't mind seeing the inside of the secret and forbidden bedroom of her fox, now was not the time. 

Nick closed the door behind him, well aware of his partner's eyes following him. Thank goodness for her conservative upbringing. Even growing up with over two-hundred siblings, she knew when and how to respect another's privacy. He gave one more glance up at his closed door before reaching under the bed and pulled out the box that held the Longstride bow. Lifting the lid, Nick checked to make sure it was still laid in its case exactly as he had done the previous night. No mysterious intruder had come in while he was out and tampered with. After all, there was nothing interesting about either him or his mother worthy of breaking and entering for except for their ancestry and this bow. Satisfied that everything was in order, he closed the case and lifted it under his arm. 

As an afterthought, Nick pulled his tactical vest out of the closet. It was the excuse he told his partner so that she'd allow him to come here and get his family bow. Nick might not put much stock in the significance of his Robin Hood ancestry, but that didn't mean that other Mammals felt the same. Regardless of whether or not he believed the bow had any special properties beyond being old, it was still an heirloom of his family. 

Bow under one arm, tactical vest in the other paw, the fox headed back out. 

Judy raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you were gonna put it on. What's that?”

Nick shifted to pull the case out of her reach. He didn't quite feel like explaining to her why he suddenly felt the need to rush home and grab some old piece of junk. “I'll put the vest on in the car. Here, you drive.”

He passed the keys back to her. 

She continued to glare suspiciously. Not at him, but at the case under his arm. “That's not a gun, is it?”

The ZPD could issue Nick any type of firearm he could request (provided he had adequate justification or need for the weapon), there was no need for him to keep something that looked like it walked out of the Uncivil War Era. Did he even have a permit for that?

“No, its not a gun.” The fox assured her. He shifted the box in his arms, holing it out in front of him so that Judy could more clearly see the shape of the long, thin, wooded case. “C'mon, Carrots, what kind of gun looks like this?”

He tucked the box back under his arm and exited the apartment, pausing just long enough to make sure the bunny was following him. Down at the car, Nick threw the case in the trunk. Then climbed into the passenger seat, leaving the safety-belt off while he slipped the tactical vest on over the shirt of his uniform. 

Judy climbed into the driver's seat and looked at him. 

“What?” He shrugged.

“I think we should bring your father in for questioning.” She said, as she turned over the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Put your belt on.”

“We're not bringing John in.” Nick growled, pulling the seatbelt over his chest. “The fact that he'll be as uncooperative as a witness can be, I don't actually know where to find him.”

“Nonsense.” Judy scoffed. “He's gotta be staying somewhere. We'll just check around at local hotels for a 'John Wilde' or 'Jonathan Wilde'.”

“Knowing him, he'll probably be using an alias.” This time it was the fox who scoffed. 

There was a beat of silence. 

Then, “What does your father do?”

Nick heaved an exasperated sight. “Its complicated.” A pause. “And crazy.”

“Its not illegal, is it?” 

“No~o... its~s... no~ot...” The fox began to assure her, doing his very best impression of his friend Flash. Nick actually didn't sound all that confident that -whatever it was his father did for a living- wasn't illegal. But then he realized he was telling the bunny more about the old tod than he had told any other Mammal and quickly recovered. “But I don't talk about John.” 

The bunny sighed. Then groaned. At the next red light she banged her head on the steering wheel then glared at her fox. “Look, Nick, your dad shows up out of the blue with a vague warning, then the very next morning we learn that someone is stalking your late mother.” A pause. “Or, they're stocking you. Either way, your father clearly knows something. So, if you don't want to bring him in, fine. I'll drop you off at the station and I'll find him and bring him in.”

The fox massaged the sides of his head just below the ears. “Look, lets just check back in with Buffalobutt before he gets impatient with us. We can revisit the 'lets bring John in' debate after.”

Secretly, he was hoping the chief would give them another case to distract her. 

…

And that's exactly what Bogo did. 

After giving Nick a firm warning that Wolford and Delgato might need to speak to him as a witness on their case, and a stern command that he was to cooperate with them and not hassle his fellow officers, the cape buffalo ordered the pair to Tundratown. 

Nick slipped a jacket on over his tactical vest and suppressed the urge to sigh with relief. His bunny was adequately distracted by a new case and the subject of his father or the possibility of his absurd ancestry coming out was thoroughly dropped. The fox was smiling when he and Judy stepped back out through the double doors of Precent One.

“Hey, maybe after this, we can stop by and you can visit with Fru-fru and Judy-Two.” He suggested, offering a sideways grin at his partner. After getting over the initial shock of the bunny cop being -more or less- adopted into the Big crime family, Nick couldn't help be find Judy's association with the crime boss' daughter terribly ironic. “I think its so adorable watching that little shrewlet crawl across your palm like some-”

He was cut off abruptly. 

There was the sound of rushing air, punctuated by a harsh THUD! Judy didn't know what was going on when her partner was suddenly thrown back against the glass door by the force of something hitting him -and hitting him hard! The bunny turned to see her fox slide down the glass, the wind knocked out of him, a dark arrow protruding from his chest.

“Nick!? NICK!”


	4. Iron Point

There was the sound of rushing air, punctuated by a harsh THUD! Judy didn't know what was going on when her partner was suddenly thrown back against the glass door by the force of whatever hit him. The bunny turned to see her fox slide down the glass, the wind knocked out of him, a dark arrow protruding from his chest.

“Nick!? NICK!”

The bunny went down on one knee next to her fallen partner. Her heart in her throat. 

All around them Mammals were gasping or making other sounds of exclamation or confusion. There was no sound of a gun, but an officer was down, his distraught partner over him. Those around them didn't know if they should scatter in a panic, or stand and gawk -pull out their phones and take pictures or video. 

The fox groaned. He unzipped his jacket to reveal the tactical vest he still wore, the arrow sticking out from the center plate. If he weren't wearing a vest, it would have gone right through his heart. “Ugh. That's gonna leave a bruise.”

Judy blinked, not realizing that she'd been crying. Stupid bunny emotions. “Nick, you're... you're okay!”

“Of course, Dumb Bunny.” He reached a paw up to wipe a stray tear off of the fur on her cheek. “Did you forget I was wearing my vest? These things were designed specifically to stop sharp things from impaling us, I think they can handle a little crossbow bolt.” He groaned again. “Now, if you don't mind, maybe we should get back inside before they reload?”

She blinked again, as if suddenly remembering procedure. Get the target to safety. Then ask the pertinent questions. “Right. Come on.”

Helping her fox to his feet, Judy kept him between herself and the building. She wasn't a very effective living shield, Nick was so much larger than her, but at the very least her tiny body would ensure that the would-be assassin didn't have a clear shot. 

Clawhouser gaped at them in confusion when he saw the pair reenter the lobby. The fox staggering. The bunny trying to support him. “What happened to you two-? Is that an arrow!? What the-?”

“Page the chief!” Judy snapped at the cheetah. “Someone just tried to shoot an officer of the ZPD right outside the station!”

Technically, someone did shoot an officer of the ZPD. It might not have been a kill-shot, but there was still an arrow sticking out of his vest right over his heart. But that was not the detail Nick was worried about. “No. Don't call the chief! Its not a big deal. We don't need to make a case out of this!”

The last thing he wanted was to get the ZPD involved. He didn't want his colleagues learning of his ancestry of how it was still relevant to modern vulpine superstition and beliefs. Any normal Mammal would think it was crazy and Nick did not want to get any more uncomfortable looks besides the ones he was already getting as a fox police officer. 

“Someone shot you!” His bunny protested. 

“With an arrow!” Clawhouser added, starring at the bolt still protruding from the fox's chest with awe. “Like something out of the Starving Games!”

“Clawhouser, page the chief!” Judy once again commanded. 

“No, Benji, don't bother the chief.” Nick objected. “I got shot in the vest, its not like I took an arrow to the knee.”

“Don't bother me with what?”

The cheetah lifted his chin, the fox and bunny turned around and peered up at the water buffalo looming over them. Nick threw on his best casual grin. “Ah-ha, I didn't see you there, sir. Behind me. Where I don't have eyes. Are you by chance a fan of Masked Bat? Because you do a fantastic impression of Masked Bat.”

Bogo glared down at the fox. “Why is there an arrow sticking out of your chest?”

“Is there an arrow sticking out of my chest?” The fox asked in mock confusion. He glanced down at his tactical vest. “Well, so there is. Would ya look at that. Ya know, I'm gonna go take care of this right now. A police station is no place for quirky shenanigans and tom foolery. Whoever put that there should be ashamed of themselves.” 

Nick darted away in the direction of the males' locker room. 

Pinching the bridge of his snout, the cape buffalo turned his attention to the retreating fox's partner. “Hopps, explain.”

…

In the males' locker room, Nick stripped off his jacket and looked down at the arrow protruding from the tactical vest. If he hadn't put it on less than an hour before just to placate Judy, he would be dead now. Wrapping a paw around the shaft, he gave the bolt a hard yank. When it didn't instantly come free, he added a second paw and pulled harder. 

Finally the bolt came free, nicking the fox's paw with the tip as he did so. 

Nick hissed in pain at the sudden burning sensation, far worse than any superficial cut should feel. Iron. The arrow was tipped with iron. Nick was severely allergic to iron. “Oh, yiff me!”

He climbed up to the sink and -sitting on the rim- ran his paw under the cold water tap, adding soap and scrubbing hard to clean out the cut. It was a tiny little scratch. Just under the fur. Didn't even get past the first layer of dermis. But because it was iron that had cut him, it felt like his whole finger was bubbling and boiling under the skin. Already his paw was red, puffy, and irritated under the fur. 

When he was sure that he'd cleaned it out as best he could, and scrubbing would do more harm than good at this point, Nick shut off the water. Bracing his wet paws on the stainless steel faucet, the cool metal helping to sooth his burning cut, the fox glared at his reflection. His own emerald green eyes stared back at him, looking irritated and worried. His mask was off, his emotions on full display for any and all to see. Taking a deep breath, Nick growled low to himself. “Robin Hood was just a fox. Fae don't exist. Whoever this psycho is, he's the crazy one. Robin Hood was just a fox. Fae don't exist. Robin Hood was just a fox. Fae don't exist.”

He chanted this to himself several times, the rhythm of the repetition soothing him more than the words themselves. His mother always warned him that his words had power. It was one of the reasons he was always so cautious in his phrasing of things. 'Red wood, with a space in the middle, wood that is red.' 

“Robin Hood was just a fox. Fae don't exist.”

Finally, he felt he was calm enough to exit the locker room. His mask was firmly back in place. No one would see that this was getting to him. As an afterthought, he retrieved the arrow from where he'd left it. This time being carful to just handle it by the shaft or the fletched end, keeping his paws far away from the iron arrow head. He pulled an evidence bag from his duty belt and shoved the bolt in. It was a little to long to fit all the way in the bag, but at least the iron tip was now covered in plastic and less likely to nick Nick again. 

As much as he wished to just pretend this little attempted murder thing never happened -as much as he wished he could pretend everything between this moment and his father showing up at his apartment the previous night never happened- Nick was not stupid. Someone attempted to shoot an officer of the ZPD right outside a ZPD headquarters. It was an act that could not go unchecked or uninvestigated. The chief would demand the guilty party be found, arrested, and the full weight of the law brought down on them. After all, if Zootopia's police force couldn't protect one of their own on their own turf, then how could they protect the city. As much as Nick would have liked to deny it, this wasn't just about him now. He couldn't take vacation time off and lay low until this blew over and whoever was gunning for him either gave up, or was 'taken care of' by his father. 

Resigned to his fate, Nick exited the males' locker room in search of his bunny -and Chief Bogo. 

Of course the 'search' wasn't long. Nick went straight to the chief's office, which is exactly where they were. 

“Come inside and shut the door.” The buffalo barked the moment the fox poked his head in. 

Nick complied, shutting the door behind him and locking it for good measure. He didn't know what Judy might have told him already. Thankfully she didn't actually know much. The worst she could have said was that his father was a Mammal of interest in the case. That he broke into the fox officer's apartment the previous night and seemed to have some prior knowledge of this attempt on Nick's life since he asked the younger tod to wear a bullet proof vest. That was all Nick could think of that the bunny knew. That was all he could think of that the bunny could have told Bogo. 

Climbing into the chair that fit both him and his bunny comfortably, the fox set his evidence bag covered arrow on the desk. “I expect you'll want the lab to run tests on this or something.”

The buffalo glanced at the arrow, shoved in a plastic bag that was to small for it, then back at the fox. 

“Why didn't you inform me immediately after threats were uttered against your life?” The chief wasn't messing around, apparently. He wasn't yelling or shouting. He didn't even raise the volume of his voice. In fact, when Bogo spoke, it was lower than usual. Graver, more serious. The buffalo was always serious, but Nick was seeing a new level of it now. Having one of your officers shot on your doorstep was no laughing matter -not even if the officer in question wished it to be so. 

The fox blinked, not used to this quieter side of the chief. “What threats, sir?”

“Nick! This is serious!” Judy exclaimed at his side. She grabbed his arm with her small gray paw and shook him. “Someone shot you!”

“I'm not dead.” He pointed out. 

“Shut it, both of you!” Bogo snapped, voice returning to its normal volume and force. That was the chief Nick was used to. “I've become used to a certain amount of rule bending and procedure shirking from the two of you. But when a suspicious Mammal enters your home without your knowledge or consent and then implies a need for body armor, that is a threat! Regardless of your relation to said Mammal. Why didn't you report it, Wilde?”

“John didn't shoot me.” Nick shook his head. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of explaining to them that the older tod had devoted his life to protecting and continuing the Robin Hood bloodline so attempting to murder him was probably the last thing his father would ever do. But that would involve explaining that he was a descendant of Robin Hood and why that was significant for foxes. (Well, that, and Nick was also John Wilde's only child, so maybe there was a little parental instinct in there too.) Instead he said, “He hates crossbows and has got cruddy aim with regular bows.” 

That was why the majority of his archery training as a kit was handled by his mother. Marian Longstride-Wilde was a master archer (among other things).

Bogo fixed the fox with an assessing stare. “Looks like you have a bit of foreknowledge about the attack yourself.”

Nick blinked. “What would make you think that, sir?”

“All I see is an arrow.” The buffalo tapped the plastic covering the iron tip. “What makes you think the weapon was a crossbow?”

The fox glanced down at the bolt on the desk. It was sized for a weapon that could be held by a small-medium Mammal like a fox, but the shaft was just a little to thick for a conventional bow. It would have to have been propelled by something with more kick than a paw-drawn string. But then again, the average Mammal didn't have his training. Things that might seem obvious to Nick might not be so apparent to others. “The force it hit me with.” He explained. “I was thrown back, like it was a real bullet. A conventional bow doesn't give that kind of force, but a crossbow does.”

“How do you know that?” Judy asked. Her paw was still on his arm. Nick made no move to pull out of her touch. 

“I know lots of things.” The fox shrugged, determined to appear casual. 

“Wilde!” Bogo snapped their attention back to him and the matter at hoof. “Do you have any information about the Mammal who shot at you? Besides the fact that they were using a crossbow.”

Yeah. They were targeting him because he was a descendant of Robin Hood. Things like that happened every other generation give or take -or so his father informed him. “No. I can't think of anything.”

“Cyber-forensics just got back to me while you were crying in the bathroom and the files that were accessed during the break-in at City Records were yours.” The chief informed him. “Your current address, and where you work. Someone is targeting you specifically, Wilde. Can you think of any reason why someone would go to such lengths to find and kill you?”

Yes. “No.” The fox assured the larger Mammal. “I can't think of anything.”

Judy's paw tightened on his arm. Bogo continued to glare at him. Nick kept his expression neutral. 

“Nothing at all?” The buffalo pressed. 

“No. Nothing.” He continued to maintain. 

“I don't like sociopaths with crossbows running around my city taking pot-shots at random citizens, Wilde.” Bogo informed the smaller Mammal, taking what looked like an old and slightly faded case file out of his desk. “I understand your mother was also killed under similar circumstances-”

“What?” Nick cut him off. “No. My mother died in an accident on her way home from work.”

And the moment the statement was out of his mouth he realized how stupid and naive he was for believing it. For one, it was something his father told him and Nick had already come to terms with the fact that he couldn't just blindly believe the things John Wilde told him. Mammals tried to kill off Robin Hood's descendants every other generation or so -give or take. His mother died under suspicious circumstances. 'Lets make a fort under the bed. It'll be fun!' 

Nick's vision blurred and he blinked tears out of his eyes. His mask trickling down his face with the realization. “My mother was murdered?”

It looked like Bogo was about to pass him the whole file -which was not very thick at all- but upon seeing the fox's shocked and dismayed expression, his feelings on full display (something that never happened) the buffalo paused, rethought the decision, pulled the file back to himself. The folder might have been small, but it did contain some rather uncomfortable crime scene photos. One in particular that showed the fatal wound after the arrow had been removed. The fur was dark and curled, the skin red and blistered, almost as if burned. Nobody needed to see their mother like that.

Instead he took out a single photo from the file. “Cause of death was a projectile through the heart. An arrow like the type from a crossbow, tipped with an iron point instead of the standard steel point found on commercially sold hunting arrows.”

He laid down a photo next to the arrow Nick had pulled from his tactical vest. A picture of the projectile from his mother's cold case, a dark iron tipped arrow.

They were identical. 

The arm under Judy's paw gave a shudder. She looked at the fox beside her and realized that he was trembling. Eyes wide with the horror of the realization. One paw over his mouth. She stood up on their shared chair and wrapped her arms around him, pulling the larger Mammal into a comforting hug. “Nick... are you okay?”

“My mother was murdered.” He said again. 

Judy rubbed circles in his back in an effort to help him calm down. “Chief, maybe we could save the rest of this interview until after he's had some time to process this information? He's clearly in shock.”

Bogo once again pinched the bridge of his snout. Then cleared his throat. “Obviously, I can't have Wilde out in the field with a psycho gunning for him. Innocents might get killed in the crossfire. Wilde is relieved of duty until further notice.” A pause. “And I'm placing him into protective custody.”

“I don't need-” Nick began to say, but was cut off abruptly by Judy. 

“Chief, I request a position on Officer Wilde's protection detail!” Of course she would. 

The buffalo's serious expression softened with a gentle smile. “I would expect nothing less. Dismissed.”

Judy jumped down from the chair and -holding Nick's paw- pulled him down with her. She dragged him out of the officer and through the station, not pausing until they got to their own work cubicle. Once concealed behind the -completely ineffectual- privacy screens, the bunny pressed herself against her fox in a much, much more intimate hug than the one she offered in the chief's office. 

“I'm so glad you're alive.” The bunny muttered, rubbing her chin against the tactical vest covering his chest. 

“I'm pretty glad I'm alive too.” That cavalier smirk was back on his face again. But it was weak and hollow, obviously fake even to the most unskilled of onlookers. Nick caught himself stroking Judy's long ears with a claw and stopped, actually paying attention to what she was doing to him instead. “Are you chinning me?”

The bunny froze abruptly. “N-no.”

She didn't mean to scent-mark him. She was just so overwhelmed. When Nick was hit by that arrow... One moment he was standing next to her joking with her, the next thing she knew he was thrown back, slumped against the closed precent door, an arrow protruding from his chest. In that moment she forgot he was wearing a vest under his jacket. He didn't move in those first few seconds... Judy honestly thought he was dead.

...And the idea was more than just horrifying for her. 

For half a second she thought she lost more than just a friend. She thought she lost- -she thought she lost the opportunity for... … for having a partner that was worth chinning. Judy suddenly realized she didn't know what to think about that. The idea that she might have lost him made her realize that she thought about Nick as more than just a friend. The bunny might appreciate the view of his sleek vulpine lines and long, bushy, bottle-brush tail. The aesthetic of 'fox' just appealed to her (since moving to the city). But she never would have imagined Nick as a... as a boyfriend. 

Sure, they might indulge in relationship-chicken, joke around in ways that certainly weren't normal for strictly platonic friends, but... He was a fox! She was a bunny! A relationship between them just wasn't done. At least, not a relationship that was anything more than friendly. 

But now was not the time for that. Judy pushed the new and terrifying realization to the side for the moment. The threat to his life was far more terrifying anyway. Judy didn't know whether or not she wanted him as an actual boyfriend or if it was just the adrenaline making her overly emotional -hysterical, almost- and she was clinging to him more ardently for fear of losing him instead of a sudden epiphany that she was actually in love with her vulpine partner. But she did know that she wouldn't know how to live with herself if he died. 

The bunny coughed.

Nick bent his neck down and sniffed at the spot she marked, his expression unreadable. Should they talk about what just happened? Which thing that just happened, him being shot, or her scent-marking him? The fox was avoiding eye contact with her when he cleared his throat. “Alright.”

“Its not alright! Someone tried to kill you!” Judy roared.

“I meant, alright, you win. We can bring in and question John.” Clarified the fox. 

He moved to exit the cubicle. 

She put herself between Nick and the gap in the privacy screens. “No, you can't leave. Its not safe! You were shot walking out of this building.” 

“I'll have to leave at some point, Carrots.” The fox informed her. “Even if someone else brings John in for us, I can't live here at the station. The bathrooms are the wrong size for one. You did heard my story of how I almost got my foot stuck in the shower drain, right? No one knows how long it'll take to catch this guy. I'll need to go home at some point.”

“Well, you won't shut up about it, so, yes. I heart the shower drain foot story.” The bunny huffed. It was no where near as traumatic as her 'fell in the toilet bowl' story and he really needed to get over it. Then again, knowing Nick, he was probably just bringing it up again now because he knew it irritated her and he'd rather she be irritated instead of worried. “And, no, you can't go home until this guy is caught. Did you not hear the chief? He knows where you live!” 

Now it was the fox's turn to huff. “And so what do you suggest, oh great and wise Fluffbutt?”

Judy paused. She looked to the side, thinking. Glanced up at Nick. Her eyes drifted lower to the scent-mark on his chest, then flicked back to his face. He knew the moment she came to some sort of a decision because her brows came down over her eyes in an expression of determination. Bunnies. They wore all their emotions on the outside. No filter, them. Everything was on full display.

“Then I'll take you to a safe house.”

Nick raised a brow. For some reason, when she said 'safehouse' is sounded suspiciously like 'my house'.

“Yeah!” Judy nodded, that energetic and optimistic light back in her eyes. “They know your address, they don't know anyone else's address. You'll just stay somewhere else!”

She grabbed his paw. 

It was the one he'd nicked with the iron tipped arrow earlier and the fox winced at the touch. 

Judy paused, looking at the reddish brown paw in her own small gray one. It felt a little warmer than Nick usually did. One finger was swollen, the skin under the fur red and puffy as if irritated. A small rash forming. “What happened here?”

He jerked his paw out of her grip. “Its nothing.” The fox assured her. “Its just a tiny cut. I'm allergic to iron and I cut myself with that arrow's iron head. I'll put some silvergel on it when I get home -or get to this safehouse you wanna take me to.”

His bunny continued to stare at the puffy rash under his fur. She looked up at him in confusion. “Silvergel isn't for rashes, you want calendula oil or anti-itch cream.”

“Silvergel works really well for me.” Nick informed her not deigning to elaborate. 

“Alright then.” Judy nodded, still skeptical but choosing to humor him anyway. “After I get you to the safe house, I'll swing by a CVS and get you some silvergel.”

She let go of his paw. 

There was a pregnant pause.

They just stared at each other. 

Another Mammal came up behind the bunny and knocked on their cubicle's privacy screen. “Sorry to interrupt your latest session of 'gazing meaningfully into each others eyes as if the rest of the station doesn't know whats going on', but the chief says Wilde here is to be secured until Wolford and Delgato return to question him.”

“What?”

Both fox and bunny looked up at the tigress officer. Fangmeyer. She looked down at the smaller Mammals with a gentle -and ever so slightly amused- smile on her face. “So, wherever you were about to take off to right now, Wilde can't leave the building.”

Nick did not look the least bit impressed. “So I'm supposed to just, what...? Sit here and wait for Wolfie and El Gatito to figure everything out for me? Delgato couldn't find his way out of a paper bag!”

Fangmeyer raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a cat joke?”

The fox immediately regretted his words. 

“I'm sure Nick didn't mean anything by it, Zoe.” Judy said, stepping in to mediate between her partner and the senior officer. “He's just had a stressful day.”

“Having someone trying to kill you can have that affect on a Mammal.” The tigress digressed, offering the fox the benefit of the doubt. “Keep him away from the doors and windows, Hopps. If he gets difficult, you have my permission to taze him and lock him in an interrogation room.”

“Hm, tasers and pawcuffs...” Nick shook his head. “You ladies are into some pretty kinky stuff. I think we'll need a safety word.”

The two females exchanged a glance. 

“You can also taze him if he just plain irritates you.” Fangmeyer added, then walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I forgot to mention, a reader from FanFiction.Net did this cute little illustration for chapter two:  
> [](http://s20.photobucket.com/user/RenkonNairu/media/aiming_high_by_be_wilder-dao2l9n_zpsvllwwzx4.jpg.html)
> 
> The original can be found [HERE](http://renkonnairu.deviantart.com/art/Aiming-high-645093419). Please give his page some love. 
> 
> Also, he has given me permission to color the illustration. When that's done I'll be adding the colored version to chapter two where it actually belongs.


	5. Ancient History & Recent Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action in this chapter is pretty cruddy. If you're a fan of action you won't like the start of this chapter. But I hope it improves after that.

John saw the shooter just half a second before the bolt left the bow. In that moment he made a snap decision, reacting on the puer impulse of instinct. The shooter was in a window of the building next to his, John couldn't stop an arrow mid-flight but he could catch and stop the shooter. He would have to trust Nicky's Trickster's Luck to protect him and hope that the stubborn kit had taken his advice and worn some kind of body armor. 

Getting a running start, John did something incredibly stupid. He jumped from the rooftop he was on, aiming his body at the shooter's open window. A medium-small Mammal like John himself, wearing a red hood that obscured his face. The red fox landed -rather ungracefully- on the fire escape next to the window, his rough landing throwing the tod's own green hood free from his face. He used one of the support bars to swing inside the open window.

The shooter had already pulled back the crossbow string and was in the process of sliding a new bolt into place when John burst in. The hooded assassin attempted to raise the weapon, but the red fox kicked it out of his paws before he could finish loading a new arrow. “That's what I hate about crossbows. Take to damn long to reload.”

“You're to late, Cucullati.” The hooded shooter taunted. “I already got my shot off. The last Longstride is dead.”

A stab of panic lanced though John's heard and he heard a gasp come from his own lips as if from the voice of someone else. Without making the conscious decision to, the red fox was turning his back on the assassin and peering out the window. 

There was Nicky, slumped on the ground, and for a moment John forgot how to breath. That bunny partner of his was bent over him shouting his name. Oh, gods! What if Nick-!? But then the younger tod moved. Shifting his shoulders and raising his paws to unzip his jacket and show the crying bunny that he was, indeed, wearing a bulletproof vest. John released a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in. “Good boy, Nicky.”

Distracted by the condition of his son, the shooter was able to slink up behind John, raising a knife. 

Hair standing on end, sensing the threat without actually being consciously aware of it, the red fox dove to one side and rolled out of the way, turning to once again face his enemy. 

A Mammal around the fox's own size. Definitely a predator too. The paw holding the knife -something in the style of an old Fairbairn-Sykes fighting dagger- was gloved, but under the glove John could see the outline of claws. The red hood obscured his face, but a canid snout covered in cream fur poked out from under it. A small canid. Either another species of fox or an undersized canid of another species. 

Most likely a corsac fox. That meant it could only be one Mammal.

“Bill Scarlock.” John presumed. 

“John Wilde.” The other nodded. 

And that was it. They had established each other's identities. No other words needed to be exchanged between them. John was not a tod of many words to begin with, and he felt no great and compelling need to listen to Bill monologue about why he was hunting and killing the descendants of Robin Hood. John didn't need to know why the other fox was trying to kill his son, he just had to stop him. He drew a blade of his own. 

A sgian-dubh, John carried a number of then on him at all times, concealed in the thigh pockets of his commando pants, or in sheaths in his belt under his vest. Each with a different blade for a different purpose. The one he drew was plain, ordinary, and mundane stainless steel. 

Bill's F-S dagger was longer than John's sgian-dubh. But John was more experienced in close quarters combat. 

“Looks like you finally brought an actual knife to a knife-fight, Billy.” The red fox teased. 

“You're awfully calm.” The corsac fox commented. “Considering I just killed your boy -practically in front of you.”

John did not glance back at the window behind him. He already saw that Nick was still alive. That was all the older tod needed to know. He could focus on stopping the attempted murderer without rage, or grief, or gilt, or regret, or any of those other uncomfortable emotions that he tended to stomp down and suppress really really deeply, clouding his thoughts. “You're a fool if you think you could kill the last descendent of Robin under the Hood that easily!”

“He's not the only descendant!” Bill snarled with a vehement passion of one that had been saying the same thing for years and years and not being believed. 

And John sighed with the kind of exasperation of one who'd been hearing the same crack potted theory for years and years and was done humoring the cracked pot said theory leaked out of. “That again. Look, Bill, Robin and Marian had twelve kits and we know who their descendants are. The twelve lines of Robin Hood are accounted for. The society didn't miss any. Give it up.”

“The twelve lines that came from Marian are accounted for!” Bill argued back. 

That was usually the point where John -and most of the Genii Cucullati for that matter- just stopped listening. Foxes took only one mate -for life. Robin Hood couldn't have any descendants that didn't come from Marian Dubois. Bill Scarlock's insistence that the Robin had other descendants was nothing more than the product of the over-active imagination of a delusional mind. 

“Bill, this is the reason why you were expelled from the order.” John shook his head, already knowing there was no reasoning with crazy. “Robin wouldn't have been with anyone but Marian. Foxes mate for life. I shouldn't have to explain that to you.”

Because Bill Scarlock was also a fox. 

But, as John already knew, there was no reasoning with crazy. Once crazy had made its mind up against something there was no changing it. “Foxes mate for life.” Scarlock agreed. “But Robin wasn't a fox. The Robin of the Wood, the Robin under the Hood was a shapeshifter, a fae. Robin Goodfellow.”

Well, it was hard to argue with that logic. The fact that Robin Hood was actually the fae Robin Goodfellow was kind the founding belief behind the Genii Cucullati society. The descendants of Robin Hood are part fae. They may or may not possibly have gifts or talents beyond what's normal for mundane mortal Mammals. Lets all do what we can to preserve the lines of the Hood and maybe keep a little bit of magic from disappearing from the world. But John had spent his whole life believing there were only twelve lines descended from the Hood. Loxley, Longstride, Huntington, Hode, Sherwood, Greenwood, Archer, Greenleaf, Feaborne, Puckman, Meadowood, and Whiteoak. The suggest otherwise -to suggest that everything the society had taught him was wrong- sparked an almost fanatical kind of denial in the older tod. 

“But the form Goodfellow chose was a fox, and foxes take only one mate!” That, and Scarlock had just taken a shot at John's only child with the intent to kill. That, also, was something the fed fox could never forgive. He lunged at the other tod with his sgian-dubh. 

Bill swept to the side, adding a little twist to the move so that he could spin around and bring his own dagger up for a stab at John. Not fast enough to dodge himself, the other tod pulled a second sgian-dubh to deflect the blade. Instead of plunging into John's kidney, the F-S dagger cut into the faux-leather of his vest and only grazed the fur and flesh beneath. The tod hissed but didn't paw when he used their connected blades to twist the dagger out of the other fox's paw. Bill dropped the Fairbairn-Sykes knife and it clattered to the floor and he backed off -just enough to put a safe amount of distance between himself and John. 

“I just took a shot right outside the local LEO's headquarters.” Bill reminded the other tod. “This building will be swarming with cops any minute now.” 

“I'm shaking in my hood.” John had a relatively low opinion of local law enforcement agencies -just a general lack of faith in their abilities. Cops were concerned with make arrests and closing cases, not making sure the crime wouldn't happen again. 

Bill shrugged. John failed to notice that, that little dodge-and-spin maneuver had turned them around so that Bill was now closer to the window and John was deeper in the room. He kicked the still unloaded crossbow at the other tod's feet. “Fine. You can stay here with the weapon.”

Bill pulled his red hood tighter around his head to keep it from falling and jumped out the open window. 

…

Sitting in his desk chair, Nick drew his knees up to his chest. Tilting his snout down, he sniffed at the scent mark Judy had chinned onto his vest, not quite sure how to process the action. 

So much had happened to him in the last few hours that Nick didn't know how to process any of it. Getting shot and nearly killed outside of his own police station, learning that his mother hadn't died in an accident but was actually murdered, and then his -completely platonic- bunny partner chinning him in a way that -he thought- bunnies ever only did to their mates. So much was swirling through his brain that Nick didn't know which he should consider first, or what he should even think about it. 

Resting his chin on his knees, the fox closed his eyes and gave an involuntary whimper. 

'If ever you feel scared or vulnerable, draw a line across your heart. Pull it tight and let it go.Send your fears flying far away.'

His mother's comforting words played through his mind. Except he left the Longstride bow in the trunk of the squad car and there was no way Judy or the Chief would let him outside, even just to the parking lot, to get it. 

A small gray paw set a paper cup filled with coffee down in front of him. 

“How you holding up?” Judy asked. The paw that had set down the cup moved to his back where she started rubbing circles in an effort to comfort him. 

It took the fox a moment to formulate a selection of responses and decide which one he wanted to use on his partner. Did he want to push her away with a short and snippy 'Just peachy'? No. As fowl as his mood was and as confusing as his feelings for her were right now, Nick was fairly confident that he did not want to push her away. But actually confiding in her was equally out of the question. As vulnerable as he was feeling right now, opening up to someone and making himself even more vulnerable was the last thing he wanted to do. 

Finally, Nick settled on, “Well, I'm huddled-up hugging myself.” 

The bunny's response to that was to wrap both her arms around him in a tight and comforting hug. Bunnies. They were so touchy-feely. ...and yet, the fox found himself leaning into her embrace, as opposed to pulling away. 

“I'm here if you wanna talk.” She whispered into his drooping tapered ear. Then quickly added, “Whatever you wanna talk about. It doesn't have to be topical.”

Whatever he wanted to talk about. It didn't have to have anything to do with what happened that day. Nick caught himself raising a paw to stroke her ears and lowered it without touching her. There was to much swirling through his head right now to be able to think about, never mind talk about -especially not if the person he was talking to appreciated coherent sentences. 

“I think I'll just finish the paperwork from yesterday's robbery.” He said instead and lowered his legs back down into a normal sitting position. The fox pulled himself closer to his desk and opened up the appropriate window on his computer.

Judy stared at him for a moment. While it was a necessary part of a police officer's job, the bunny had never seen him actually volunteer to do the paperwork for any of their cases. Usually he tried to pawn it off on her, only actually doing his own work after bothering her about it for an hour or so and being denied every time. The fact that he started working on his own was a huge red flag. If the mind-numbingly dull busy work of filing cases into the system was preferable to actually having to think about... things...

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She asked.

“No.” He was quick to assure her. Then sighed, remembering. “Actually, yeah. That box I got from my apartment, can you get it for me? I left it in the trunk of the car.”

“Sure.” And just like that, she hopped off. In slightly better spirits even, because she was helping. She, at least, was easy to cheer up. 

Unlike Nick whom was a moody and broody little fox that liked to compartmentalize and internalize everything. 

Just as Judy was exiting the building heading back to the motor pool, another Mammal passed her, entering. She had to do a double take, because out of the corner of her eye he looked exactly like Nick but she knew it couldn't be her partner. 

“Mr. Wilde?”

John paused to glance at the smaller Mammal, recognizing her as the bunny his son claimed was his 'partner' the previous night. “Where's Nicky? Is he inside, or- -or did you send him to the hospital for liability reasons?”

The older tod saw that his son was clearly still alive after the arrow hit him. He knew Nick wasn't dead. What he didn't know was what happened after he took his eyes off his son to tussle with the would-be assassin. 

“He's inside.” She supplied without thinking. Then added, “How did you know-”

But the fox was already sprinting through the lobby. The bunny was left asking the empty air how it knew that something had happened to Nick. 

Paws clacking against the keyboard, Nick was well on his way to forgetting his troubles in the bog of busy work that was filling out reports. That was, until someone barged into the cubicle without the curtesy of a knock or any warning of any kind. 

“Are you ready to listen to me now?” 

The fox wheeled around in his swivel chair, startled. Nick glared up at his father. “John! What are you doing here? How did you even get all the way back here?”

The older tod did not deign to offer answers to either of those questions. Instead, he took Judy's empty seat, quickly realized it was about two sizes to small for him and stood back up, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't know what it is you think you're doing here, Nicky, but whatever it is, you need to drop it and come with me now.”

Nick debated delivering a lecture on how this was his job and he couldn't just walk away from it. Or how Joh didn't have the right to make demands of him since they had barely spoken in a decade. Or how inside a police station was probably safer for him than moving out in the open with a guy dressed as an 'urban-commando-Robin Hood'. But Nick knew his father and knew that John just wouldn't listen to any arguments he had -no matter how logical and rooted in reality they were. 

So, all he said was, “No.”

And turned back around in his swivel chair to return to his work. 

Grabbing the back of his chair, John turned Nick back around. Forcing the younger tod to face him. “Nicky, listen to me. You are the last descendent of-”

John was cut off abruptly and suddenly when his son surged out of his chair and pinned the older fox to the opposite wall of the cubicle's privacy screen. One paw closed firmly over John's muzzle, silencing him. The last thing Nick wanted was his father blurting out in the middle of the officers' work room that he was a descendent of Robin Hood. 

“Not here!” Nick hissed, leaning forward slightly to whisper it in his father's ear -so quietly that not even Judy with her superior bunny hearing could overhear. He held John's gaze for a moment or two longer to make sure the older tod understood before finally letting him go. 

John only blinked at his son. “What was that?”

“What? Its perfectly reasonable for me to not want you blurting out embarrassing family history at my work!” Nick snarled back.

No. That!” The older tod grabbed the younger fox's vest by one of its velcro straps and bent his neck down to sniff at the mark Judy had chinned into his chest. “You and that bunny, you're not- you can't be. Nicky!”

“No.” Was all the younger tod growled. 

“A bunny cannot continue the Longstride line!” 

“I don't wanna continue the Longstride line.” Nick reminded his father, it was not actually a denial of what John was assuming of the nature of their relationship. (Of course, it wasn't a confirmation either.) Lifting his head to peer over the cubicle walls to see if any of the other officers had overheard their conversation. If they did, there were no visual signs. “I know a place where we can talk. Follow me.”

Nick lead the other fox out of the cubicle and through the officers' work room to a door on the opposite side. Down a corridor and into another room. 

A proper room, not another cubicle. With solid walls, a table in the middle, one chair on either side, and a large mirror taking up almost one wall on the side right when you walked in the door. 

“Is this an interrogation room?” John asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at his son. 

“Do you wanna talk, or not?” Nick snapped. Yes. It was the only interrogation room in the whole station with furniture -table and chairs- sized for Mammals in the same size-class as foxes, bunnies, weasels, and other such small-medium citizens. “Sit!”

The older tod held the younger's gaze for a moment longer, glaring at him suspiciously. But he took a seat anyway. With his back to the two-way mirror, the interrogator's seat. Nick shook head, closing the door behind him. He shrugged, and took the seat for the perpetrator. 

“Alright, John,” he began carefully, “what's this about me being the last? There are supposed to be twelve families descended from the Robin of the Wood. How can I all of a sudden be the last?”

John paused a moment. Looked behind himself at the two way mirror, wondering if there was anyone on the other side recording them. But then, Nicky wouldn't allow that. If he was so self-conscious about his ancestry that he didn't wanna talk about it openly in the officers' workroom, then he certainly wouldn't want anyone recording it in the room on the other side of that glass. Turning back round, he explained. “Someone has been killing off Robin Hood's descendants.”

Now it was Nick's turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Isn't it your job to make sure stuff like that doesn't happen?”

“Don't take that tone with me, boyo.” John growled.

“What are you gonna do?” Nick challenged, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Send me to my room? I'm not twelve anymore.”

“No. But you're still a mouthy brat who's lying to himself and trying to be something he's not.”

That skeptical eyebrow was raised again. Was that a comment on being a fox and trying to join the Junior Ranger Scouts as a kit and now becoming a police officer as an adult? Or was John instead referencing Nick's suborn and passionate refusal to acknowledge his ancestry? Which ever it was, the younger tod chose to ignore the comment and instead asked a question to get them back on topic. “Do you know who's trying to kill me?”

“Yes.” John confirmed. “Which is how I know he'll try again. So you need to come with me and-”

“Is this guy the same guy who's been killing off the other descendants?” Nick cut him off, using his business-like, no-nonsense 'Officer Wilde' voice. 

The older fox sighed, as if in exasperation. “Yes. So, we have to-”

“How long has he been at this?” The younger tod cut him off once again. 

“A while.” This time John did not try and say more. He knew his son well enough to know that Nicky wasn't gonna let him get another word in until he was ready. Nick could be a little bit like his mother in that respect. 

“Years?” Nick pressed. “Decades? Two decades, maybe?”

John leaned back, eyeing the younger fox suspiciously. That was an oddly specific question. 

Nick caught the subtle change in his father's body language and expression. Charging onward, the younger tod pressed his advantage. “Since Mom died? Did this guy have anything to do with Mom's murder?”

“Who told you your mother was murdered?” Now the older fox was defensive in an oddly aggressive sort of way. 

If Nick didn't know any better, he might have described John's reaction as 'protective'. But he couldn't image who or what the older tod would be defensive of. Certainly not the murderer who killed his mate! Probably not said late mate's reputation. If he were a bit younger, Nick might have believed John was trying to protect his child-like naivete and innocent perceptions of the world. But Nick was over thirty by now and no longer had any such 'innocent' perceptions left to protect. He was about as jaded as a Mammal could be without committing any grievous atrocities like murder, rape, or sharing Game of Alphas spoilers. 

“Your mother's death was an accident.” John insisted. So, it was Nick's 'child-like innocents' he was trying to protect. 

Nick glared across the table at his father. Meeting the other fox's eyes, he held the stare as he commanded, “Don't lie to me, John!”

The older fox matched his stare with one of his own. “That only works if you use my True Name, boyo.”

Nick found himself suppressing a growl of frustration. It rumbled deep and low in his chest, bubbling out through his voice when he replied. “Bullshit! Fae don't exist, and 'True Name magic'-” air quotes “-isn't a real thing!”

John remained silent. 

With a sigh, Nick forced himself to calm down. Talking to John always got him worked up like this. Nick would say something, John would contradict him with some bizarre argument formed around fairies and magic, which would send Nick off the rails, launching them both into a shouting match that would only end when one of them stormed out of the room. But that would be the least constructive thing that could happen at the moment and so Nick made a conscious effort to calm down and force himself to let it go. 

He signed, massaging the sides of his head just below the ears. “John, I'm not a little kit anymore. You don't have to lie to spare my feelings while you stay up all night like a nervous wreck expecting monsters to attack in the dark.”

“What do you mean?” The older fox feigned ignorance, blinking with innocents at his son. “I thought you had fun at our slumber parties.”

Nick was not amused and refused to play along. “John, someone is trying to kill me. If you want me to go anywhere with you, you have to be honest with me. For once in your life, tell me everything you know -not just what you think I need to know.”

There was a beat of silence. 

It stretched on for one... two... three beats. 

Both tods did nothing but glare at each other. 

Then John sighed, resting his elbows on the interrogation room table. “Alright, you know the Robin under the Hood wasn't really a fox, but instead the Lord of the Greenwood -Robin Goodfellow- in mortal form...”

Nick tried not to roll his eyes. He really, really tried. 

“...and the descendants he sired on Marian Dubois are blessed with uncommon luck -among other special abilities.”

Again, Nick tried not to roll his eyes, biting his own tongue to keep from saying something that would derail this conversation into another volatile and deconstructive argument. The idea that Robin Hood was a fae lord and his descendants had special powers was absurd, so anyone who believed it had to be crazy. If this serial killer was only going after Robin Hood's descendants then he was just as crazy as John was. Antagonizing the older tod wouldn't get Nick the information he needed. 

So, while it pained him, Nick said nothing. 

“Well, there are some Mammals who believe that when you kill a descendent, their magic is divided up among the survivors.” John continued. “Magic is like energy. It can't be created or destroyed, so when a creature with magic dies, its power has to go somewhere. The one who's doing this thinks that if he can kill all the other descendants, the one that's left will become a full-fae.”

It took a lot of effort -really, really a lot of effort, Nick was so proud of his self control- not to point out the absurdity of all of that. Instead -thought it almost physically pained him to do it- Nick played along, proceeding under the assumption that magic and fairies did exist and magical energies worked exactly the way John described they did. 

“Okay, so then I'm not the last descendent. Me and the guy killing everybody else are the last descendants.” He deduced. “I'm just the last sane one. Alright, so who do I have to go out and arrest? Roberta Hode? Jareth Faeborne? He always was a little weird. Richard Greenleaf? That might be a little difficult since he'll probably have diplomatic immunity.”

John just shook his head. “No. Nicky, you're not listening. They're all dead. I told you, you're the last descendent.”

Nick's eyebrow twitched. John wasn't making any sense. First of all, Nick didn't have anything even resembling 'magic' and he certainly wasn't a fae. Secondly, if the whole point of committing these serial murders of the descendants of Robin Hood was to ensure the last descendent became a full-fae, and they were still trying to kill Nick, then obviously he wasn't the last descendent. But, once again, Nick learned a long time ago that you just can't argue with crazy. 

Instead, he asked outright, “Do you know who's trying to kill me or not?”

“Yes.”

“But you're not going to tell me.”

“Its not necessary for protecting you.” John insisted. “I need to keep you close to me. I can't have you rushing off half-cocked to take out the guy yourself when you don't even believe anything I've said in the first place and aren't prepared for what you'd be going up against.”

“For the love of crap, John!” Nick snarled, standing from his seat. Catapulted to his feet by sheer frustration. “I'm not some fairy tale princess that has to be sheltered from everything! Tell me what I need to know.”

“You never cared to learn about Goodfellow or the Genii Cucullati before, Nicky.” John said. “There are some things that -at this point- you just won't understand.”

Still on his feet, Nick bent over. Fists resting on the table, shoulders sagging, as if in defeat. “Did this guy kill Mom?”

“No.” John shook his head. “He would have been too young at the time.”

“Did the one who killed Mom have anything to do with these Mammals who think they can make a full-fae by killing all the other descendants?”

“You don't need to worry about that, Nicky.” John neither confirmed nor denied anything. 

“Did you tell any of this to the police?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer. Bogo didn't actually let him see the whole file, but just by looking at it, it was easy to tell that it was to thin to contain many witness statements or suspects. If John had given the police anything useful, the file should have been thicker. 

“Of course not!” The older tod said as if this should have been obvious. “Cops are useless.”

Nick sighed. Straightening. “Alright, John, I know what I have to do...”

The other fox also stood, coming around the table, thinking his son was finally agreeing to leave this weird cop-con behind and come with him. 

But that wasn't what the younger tod had in mind. Nick pulled his pawcuffs from his belt and snapped then around John's wrists before the older fox realized what was happening. 

“Johnathan Kirk Wilde, you're under arrest for obstruction of justice in both the case of the attempted murder of Nickolas Wilde -me!- and the cold case of the murder of Marian Longstride-Wilde. You have the right to remain silent-”

“The hell!?” John could only blink in shock as his son locked his arms behind his back. “Nicky, what are you doing?”

“I'm arresting you. Obviously.” Nick informed his father, calmly. There was something oddly satisfying about this. He shoved the older tod out of the interrogation room and steered him down the corridor towards the holding cells while continuing to read him his Miranda Rights. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you-”

“You can't arrest me! You're not a real cop!”

“Right.” Nick smiled, shoving the older fox into a holding cell and slamming the sliding door shut. “And these aren't real bars.”

He walked away.

A very sympathetic raccoon placed a commiserating paw on the fox's shoulder. “You cheat him at Scrabble too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On an unrelated note, after seven years, I finally have a Twitter. I will mostly be posting fan fiction and fandom related stuff (although some of my day-job mishaps and/or cosplay fails might leak in). If you're interested, you can follow me [@RenkonNairu](https://twitter.com/RenkonNairu)


	6. The Story is Told...

Wolford and Delgato had a rough idea of the situation when they pulled back into the Precent One motor pool. Cyber forensics confirmed that the files that were accessed during the break-in were Nick's. No sooner had the pair radioed the Chief to let him know that one of his officers was involved, than said officer was shot walking out of the building. 

It wasn't a random shooting. 

Whoever it was, was targeting Wilde specifically. 

They met up with Hopps in the parking lot. Almost ran her over was more like it, she was so small. If it wasn't for that absurdly long case she was carrying in her paws they never would have seen her over the hood of their squad car. Delgato breaked hard, startling all three of them. 

“Jezus H Christ, Hopps!” The lion hung his head out the window. “I could have killed you!”

Panting from shock, taking a few deep breaths to get herself back under control, Judy forced a calming smile on her face. But -somehow- it came off more closely resembling one of Wilde's irritating smirks. “But you didn't.”

Delgato looked like he was about to snap back with a retort that would just escalate the situation, so Wolford reached over and placed a calming paw on the larger predator's arm. To the bunny he asked, “What are you doing out here, Hoops? Shouldn't you be inside babysitting your partner?” His opinion of Wilde was clear. Then the wolf's eyes shifted to the long, thin wooden case in her paws. “What's that?”

“Its Nick's.” Judy explained matter-of-factly. “He asked me to get it for him.”

“Speaking of your partner,” began Delgato much more calmly this time, “we'll need to speak to him as soon as we get inside. Can you make sure he understands this is serious and that I have no time or patience for his lip and attitude.” 

“Of course!” She nodded, then hopped back inside while Delgato parked. 

“I swear. Those two...” Grumbled the lion as he waited for the bunny to clear the lot so he could pull into a spca without fear of running her over. 

“I'm not a fan of Wilde, either.” Wolford agreed in an attempt to calm his partner. “But Hopps is alright, and remember -right now at least- Wilde is the victim. Lets try to be a little more tolerant of him -at least for the first interview.”

Delgato made a noise that might have been a scoff of dismissal or a groan at the fact that the wolf was right. For now, at least, they had to be patient with the obnoxious and irritating red fox. The lion killed the engine and climbed out of the car. 

As they were entering the building, the pair was stopped by one of the clerks that worked in lock-up. The hippo skidded to halt in front of the wolf and lion, looking harried and annoyed. “You two working the Wilde Shooting?” He asked. “Well, Wilde made an arrest on his own shooting but I got no paperwork on this guy. I need someone to tell me what to do with him.”

Wolf and lion exchanged a look. 

“Wilde already made an arrest?” Asked Delgato.

“Without leaving the building? Did the perp just up and turn himself in?” Wolford raised a skeptical eyebrow. Then asked a more pertinent question. “Has he been processed?”

“Honestly,” huffed the hippo, “I don't even think he was searched.”

Delgato groaned. 

Wolford pinched the bridge of his snout in irritation. “Okay. I have more patience for Wilde, I'll start talking with him. Delgato will take over that no-paperwork arrest he made. Do we at least have a name?”

“Yeah.” Laughed the hippo. Laughed. As if the fact that an arrest had already been made was some huge, ironic joke. “Red fox, male. Name: John Wilde.”

Again, Wolford and Delgato exchanged a look. “Wilde? As in Nickolas Wilde? They're related?”

This time it was the lion's turn to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I'm not gonna enjoy this, am I?”

“Its starting to feel like we're in one of those terrible bargain bin mystery novels.” The wolf agreed. “Rick Castle's Storm Fall, or Heat Wave.”

Delgato only gave a shrug. He was more a sci-fi fan than a mystery reader. Battle of Serenity Valley, or Reavers of Miranda, that was more the lion's thing. “Go take Wilde's statement -our Wilde. I'll take care of the Wilde in lock-up.”

They split up. 

Wolford found Wilde in the cubicle he shared with Hopps. Both smaller Mammals were bent over the wooden case Hopps was carrying in the parking lot. The fox unclasped the latches with a level of care the wolf was not used to seeing in the other canid. Wilde had always struck him as flippant, with a 'devil may care' attitude about things. He wasn't used to seeing the red fox being 'carful' -or even 'reverent'- in his handling of a thing.

“Thanks for grabbing this for me, Carrots.” The fox was saying. 

“Of course!” The bunny nodded back up at her partner. “After insisting that we detour to your apartment to get it, I wanna see what it is. Also-” she pulled a tube of generic Brand X silvergel out of her duty belt “-I stopped by the Rite Aid across the street and got you this.”

She squeezed a little of the clear gel onto her own paw before rubbing in onto the fox's. Particularly one finger that looked swollen and red under the fur. Wilde sighed with relief. 

“Thanks, Carrots.”

Wolford announced his presence by coughing conspicuously. 

Both fox and bunny froze, still holding each others paws, staring at him as if he'd just walked in on them mating on the desk. Wilde cleared his throat, resting one paw on the top of the case, almost casually. But it was clear by the set of his shoulders and how he carried himself in a slightly defensive posture that, that 'resting paw' was more along the lines of holding down the lid from someone who might insist on forcing it open for a search and seizure. The wolf met the fox's eyes and found his expression to be closed off and guarded. 

“What's in the case, Wilde?” He asked. 

“An antique.” The fox supplied.

Wolford gave the case a second examination. Long and narrow. Wrong shape for a gun, or any mainstream weapon he could name off the top of his head. But then, it didn't have to be a weapon. If it was an antique, then it could have a value -a value worth killing for. The kind of antique that is passed down in families -the kind that one might need to break into City Records to find the previous owner and their heir. The kind of antique that one might want to arrest a relative over. 

“Is that what this is about?” The wolf asked. 

Hopps glanced up at her partner, the bunny's expression mirroring the wolf's own question. So, Wilde hadn't even told his bunny what this was all about. Wolford didn't know if that made him feel better or worse about the whole situation. 

“No.” He said. Then amended. “Not exactly.” 

The wolf waited a beat, hoping the fox would elaborate. 

The beat stretched out for another one... two... three beats. 

Then he ran out of patients. “Alright, Wilde, do you wanna talk here or in a room?”

“Whoa, wait, an interrogation room?” Hopps sprang between the two canids, one paw grabbing defensively -almost possessively- at the fox's paw. “Nick's not a perp. He's the victim in all this! I know you have to question him. Of course! But you don't have to treat him like he's guilty of something. He was the one who was shot!”

“And whoever shot him must have had a reason.” Wolford reminded her with a kind of finality that left no room for argument. 

Pulling the paw she was holding out of the bunny's tiny grip, Nick moved it to a restraining position on Judy's shoulder. “Its okay, Carrots. Chill. An interrogation room is just a room.” Then to the wolf he said, “Can we use the room with the me-sized table?”

“Fine.” The wolf agreed. “You're technically the victim. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

Wolford lead Nick out the officers' work room and down a corridor towards the interrogation rooms. Judy followed closely behind the two canids. The little bunny was feeling much more protective of her vulpine partner since he got shot. But Judy didn't know if it was because she was secretly in love with the fox, or because he was her friend and had already been through a lot that day and she was worried for his mental and emotional well-being. Whatever the real reason for her current state of over-protectiveness, she couldn't afford to spare attention to wonder about it now. Maybe after Nick was safe and the killer (would be killer) was safely behind bars. 

The wolf held the door open for the fox. The bunny went into the adjoining media room -and was pleasantly surprised to find all the recording equipment already up and running. 

Inside the interrogation room proper, Nick -once again- took the seat of the perp, facing the mirror. He locked eyes with his own reflection, wondering if Judy was looking back at him. The sight of his own emerald eyes was obscured, however, when Wolford sat down in front of him. Blocking the mirror. 

“Alright, Wilde.” The wolf cleared his throat. “We're gonna do this again, and this time I hope you're a little more open with me than you were at the Records Building. You already know all the standard questions I would normally ask in this situation, and I'm sure you've already prepared a slew of frustrating answers to deflect them all until I'm so annoyed that I just give up and send you back to the chief.”

Nick was about to look all smug and confident until Wolford continued. 

“Instead I'm gonna try a different angle.” The wolf announced. “Its clear that this is some sort of family feud. Your mother's records are raided in archives, your information is hacked, and then Delgato and I get back to learn that you've arrested another Wilde. Clearly, your family is at the center of all this. So, what is 'all of this'?”

The fox blinked. He was silent for one... two.. three beats. 

...Before Wolford began to grow impatient with his colleague. “You can't not say anything, Wilde. You were shot out in public. Never mind that it was right in front of our House. It was outside, surrounded by other Mammals. Someone else could have been hurt. Tell me what I need to know to stop this from happening again and stop other Mammals from getting hurt.”

Nick waited one more beat. 

Then, “You wouldn't understand.”

“That's not an excuse, Wilde. You still have to talk.” Insisted the wolf. 

“No. Actually. I don't.” The fox reminded him. 

With a sigh, Wolford rested his elbows on the too-short-for-him interrogation table and massaged the sides of his head just below the ears. “Alright, you don't have to tackle the big questions yet. Lets work on the small stuff. Who was it that you arrested before Delgato and I got here?”

“My father.” Nick was so matter-of-fact when he said this that the wolf almost missed the answer entirely. 

“Your fa- your father!?”

“Yeah. John Wilde. I arrested him.” 

Wolford blinked. He never would have expected the fox would be so- so cold to arrest his own father. But then, the wolf reminded himself, he didn't understand the nature of their relationship. It wasn't like the fox shared much about his childhood or home-life while on the job. Foxes -by nature- weren't very social Mammals, but Wilde was uncommonly closed off even for that. Wolford had so many questions. But only one of them was really pertinent to the investigation. “Do you think he had something to do with your shooting?” A pause. “Or the break-in at city records?”

“No.” Said the fox. 

“No to which question?” Asked the wolf.

“Both of them.” Nick growled, annoyed. 

“Then why'd you arrest him?” Wolford groaned. 

“Obstruction of justice on a cold case. My mother's murder.” 

Again, the wolf groaned and resumed massaging the sides of his head. The perp in holding was Wilde's own father, Wilde was shot right outside the station, and now he was just finding out that Wilde's mother was murdered. Wolford was suddenly wishing he and Delgato and divided the labor differently. Make the lion deal with Wilde and he could take care of booking for the fox's father. After all, how much more difficult than the son could an old middle aged tod be?

No sooner had this thought occurred to the wolf, however, than Delgato barged through the interrogation room door. The lion glared down at the vulpine officer -almost murderously, he was so angry. 

“Why didn't you search him, Wilde!?” The lion roared. 

Wolford blinked up at his enraged feline partner. “What happened?”

Delgato wasn't paying attention to the wolf. He continued to glare daggers at Nick. “Do you know how many weapons that guy had on him!?”

There was a beat. 

Then, “Twelve.”

The corner of the lion's eye twitched. That was the only warning anyone got before the cat pounced on the smaller predator. “That's it!”

At the same time, Wolford propelled himself out of the too-small-for-him chair to pull the larger predator off the small fox. Hopps appeared at some point during the ensuing tussle of red, gold, and silver fur. Wolford didn't notice her until he had pulled Delgato far enough away to see that she had placed her tiny bunny body between her vulpine partner and the feline officer. 

“The heck is wrong with you!?” The bunny snarled -actually snarled. Like, a sound that bunnies were not supposed to be able to make actually came out of her throat. “Forget the fact that he's a fellow officer. You don't assault a victim, Delgato!”

Delgato's only retort was to jab an accusatory finger at the fox. “He threw a perp into a holding cell with pockets full of knives! Weird ones too. And he knew about it!”

“Did he stab anyone?” Nick asked.

“Well, no... But he could have!” 

“Okay, okay, lets all calm down then.” Hopps attempted to sooth, putting her earlier defensiveness aside in favor of diffusing the situation instead. “What Nick did was super-irresponsible and Bogo will definitely write him up for it. But no one got hurt and the mistake is understandable when you consider the circumstances. We can't expect Nick to do everything perfectly on the same day that someone tried to kill him.”

Letting those words sink in, Delgato exhaled slowly. His rage deflating into a quieter simmer of anger. 

That was when Wolford decided it was a good opportunity to asked, “Weird how?”

“Huh?” The other three blinked at them. 

“You said the knives were weird.” The wolf clarified. “Weird how?”

Remembering that he was a cop and that he still had a job to do, the lion forced himself to calm down the rest of the way and answer his partner's question. “The blades, they're all treated, but treated weird. One's plated in silver, another's been salted, another's oiled with garlic -just weird. I'll show you.”

Delgato lead the other three to the evidence locker where the clerk was still cataloging the dozen sgian-dubh. The cat picked one up by the corner of the evidence bag it was in and held it up for the others to see. “This one's fairly normal. Stainless steel, nothing strange. But this one...” he set down the first one (messing up the evidence clerk's carful system) and picked up a different one holding it up. “Rough hewn iron, practically raw ore vaguely hammered into the shape of a knife.”

Nick felt hot and itchy just looking at it. 

“And this one!” Delgato picked up a particularly spectacular sgian-dubh with a transparent blade. So clear it was almost flawless. “That's not glass. This thing's made of crystal. Crystal! Who makes knives out of crystal? How do you make a knife out of crystal? Wouldn't it be to brittle? How is this a thing?”He set that one down and picked up yet another. “This one's covered in salt. How does that not damage the metal of the blade? How does this guy maintain these things?”

Nick pinched the bridge of his snout in exasperation. “Yup. That's John.”

Everyone in the room -even the file clerk- turned to look at the fox. 

“Care to shed some light on these, Wilde?” Wolford asked, picking up a sgian-dubh with a blade made entirely of wood -no metal at all. 

Groaning, the fox dragged his claws down the sides of his face. Reluctantly -very reluctantly- he was beginning to realize that there really was no way he could get out of this with his dignity. Between John getting his arsenal confiscated, and some psycho shooting Nick outside a police station, there was no way anyone was going to let the fox leave without explaining some things. At least his reputation might fair better if he was the one who explained instead of waiting for John to blurt out his own absurdities. 

“Alright.” He moaned in despair. “Alright. I'll talk. But only to her.” He jabbed a claw at Judy. 

The bunny only blinked at him. 

“Of course.” Wolford groaned, now it was hist turn to pinch the bridge of his snout in the vain hope of staving off a stress headache. “Hopps, we expect a detailed statement from him. Signed and properly filed.”

“I'll take care of it.” She nodded, and they knew she would. Wilde might be lazy and sloppy with his paperwork, but Hopps was almost always on point. 

She lead her fox out of the evidence room. 

The wolf and lion watched them leave. Once Delgato was sure they were out of ear-shot (yes, even the bunny's keen ear-shot), he turned to his partner and asked, “So, am I crazy or was Wilde sporting a bunny mark?”

He had caught the distinct whiff of a mating mark when he pounced on the fox. But the perplexing thing was that the scent of the make belonged to a bunny -to Hopps. There were so many things wrong with that, Delgato didn't even know where to begin. But all obvious objections aside, they worked together. It was super-unprofessional to boink your co-worker and partner. So the cat decided he must have been mistaken. The wolf had a better nose than he did, so he asked for a second opinion. 

“Oh, no, she totally marked him.” Wolford only confirmed. But he didn't have the patients to gossip about it at the moment. “What did you do with Wilde's father, by the way?”

“He's making his phone call.”

…

Judy lead Nick by the paw, not letting go for even a moment, as she lead him back to the officers' workroom and their shared cubicle. 

Nick flopped down in his chair. He rested a paw on the still closed case containing the Longstride bow. 

Judy took up her own chair, swiveling it around so she could face him, the bunny crossed her arms over her chest and waited for her partner to begin the explanation he promised to give. The explanation she felt he should have given her the moment he kicked his father out of his apartment the previous night. 

“This place isn't exactly private.” The fox pointed out. Their cubicle was blocked from their fellow officers' sight, not their hearing. 

“Tough cookies. This is what you get. Now start talking.” She decided it was time to start playing the 'hard tail' cop. 'Sweet and gentle' friend didn't get her anywhere with him. Her eyes noted his paw resting on the case. A case he was so desperate to get to that he risked the wrath of Bogo in order to stop at his apartment before reporting back to the station, a case that he asked her to bring in for him because he -apparently- didn't think it was safe enough locked in the trunk of a police car. “What's in the box, Nick.”

He sighed. “Its an heirloom from my mother.”

There was a pregnant pause.

Some more awkward glances between the box and the bunny. 

Another sigh.

“One thing I never told you, Carrots...” he said softly, almost whispered, hoping to whatever power he subconsciously believed in that no one else could hear them “...is that I'm a descendent of Robin Hood.”

He paused to let that revelation sink in. 

Judy was quiet for one... two... three beats. 

Then, “So, what?” She blinked. 

“So what?” He echoed, not quite understanding her reaction. 

“Yeah. So what? Everyone's descended from someone.” She shrugged.

Nick sputtered helplessly for a moment. That was not the response he was expecting. That was not one of the responses he prepared for. Not believe him? Yes. Laugh at him? Sure. Think he was crazy? Yes. But just casual acceptance? The fox didn't know how to handle that. “Carrots, how much do you know about the Robin Hood legend?”

The bunny only shrugged. “Outlaw fox. Robbed from the rich. Gave to the poor.”

“Oh, you sweet naive little bunny...” Sighed the fox. Then sucked in a breath. “Okay. I'm gonna tell you a story. But before I do, I just wanna preface this by saying that I -personally- don't believe all of this. Its just the way the story goes and you're gonna need to know the story in order to understand what's going on.”

“Okay.” Judy nodded, very serious. 

Nick heaved another sigh. “Okay.” He said again. “Okay... So, um, okay. Some Mammals believe Robin Hood was a fae -a faerie lord.” 

“So?” The bunny shrugged. “Lots of Mammals have whacky beliefs. You're never heard of the Moon Bunny? Some Mammals believe that there's an immortal rabbit that lives on the moon and mixes the Elixir of Life. Some times Mammals have absurd beliefs. Its not what they believe that matters, it how they act on those beliefs that's important.”

Nick never would have predicted it, but Judy had just said exactly the right thing to put him at ease. But then, she had a tallent for soothing his anxieties. 

“Alright. Let me tell you the story.” He cleared his throat and began the way his mother used to tell it to him when he was younger. “The story is told, though who can say if it be true... That when the Old Oaks were young, in the dark of the new forest lived the Lord of the Greenwood. His True Name is unknown, but he was the Robin of the Wood, the Robin under the Hood -the Seelie lord, Robin Goodfellow. When the Lionheart went off to war, and Prince John's taxes drove already poor Mammals into starvation, a lot of Mammals -outlaws and their families- fled the towns and fifes, taking refuge in the Greenwood.”

He paused, watching his bunny, gauging her reaction. Nick had never actually retold the tale of Robin Hood before. He'd never had to. Everyone he knew either already knew the story or was someone he would never want to know. But he told Wolford and Delgato he would tell Judy. Both they and Bogo would expect some kind of report from her. That, and... Nick bend his head down to once again sniff at the scent mark she'd chinned into his vest. That, and he also wanted to tell her. If she cared about him enough to mark him, then she at least deserved to know what she was getting herself into. And if he ever had the time and opportunity to figure his own feelings out, he would have to tell her anyway if he decided to mark her in turn. 

The bunny only looked interested. Sitting in her desk chair, watching him. Patiently waiting for him to continue. 

Her expression was so ernest and open as she regarded him that it caused Nick to stumble through the next part. “Uh, um... One of the outlaws escaping punishment for tax evasion was a brown bear named John Little. He came upon Robin Goodfellow while trying to cross a river. Goodfellow was in Mammal form and so Little didn't realize at first that he was a magical fae. When Goodfellow barred him from crossing the water and entering the Wood, Little challenged him to fair combat. If he won, Goodfellow would have to let him cross, if Goodfellow won then Little would leave and seek asylum somewhere else. Robin Goodfellow was kind of an anti-social dick in the beginning.”

She snorted at that last comment and Nick took this as a positive sign. 

“So, Little set the rules of the match. That it should be a 'fair fight' and as everyone knows, fae are bound by their words. When Goodfellow agreed to the terms he had no choice but to follow them and couldn't use his magic or trickery to win. John Little, being a huge brown bear, easily overpowered the fae whom had chosen a smaller form and Goodfellow had to allow Little into the Wood.”

“How did the name get swapped from 'John Little' to 'Little John'?” Judy interrupted. 

“Oh! Right. Forgot that part.” Nick slapped a paw to his head. This was his first time recounting the tale since he was a kit standing in front of the class for show and tell. (A very ill-fated show and tell that the fox refused to speak of.) “Goodfellow changed his name when he started living in the Wood. Sort of a 'new home, new you' sort of thing. Anyway... Little and Goodfellow became friends and Little told the fae about what was going on outside the Wood and why so many Mammals were fleeing the townships and settlements to live off the land or seek asylum in his forest. Goodfellow had been getting kinda annoyed with all the new Mammals coming into his Wood in the past year and so he figured he could solve the problem for them.”

“Aw...” The bunny sounded so disappointed. “So he wasn't being altruistic and kind. Robin Hood got involved because he was sick of having squatters in his house.”

“Carrots, I'm gonna tell you something right now.” Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fairies aren't nice. Whether you actually believe in them or not doesn't change the fact that they're jerks. You think ancient Mammals called them reverent names like 'the bright ones', 'the shining host', 'the fair folk' because they were kind-hearted or pretty? No. It was because they didn't want to run the risk of pissing off the petty little monsters. Bad things happen to Mammals who piss off a fae.”

“Oh.” She acted as if she didn't know that.

“Anyway, moving on...” The fox cleared his throat. “So, Goodfellow stopped one of the Prince's exchequers -that, uh, an old timey tax collector- and stole all the money he'd collected. Robin took the money and gave it back to all the Mammals that had been declared criminals for tax evasion and thought that would be the end of it.” 

“But, of course, that was really just the beginning. Am I right?” Judy snickered into her paw. Snickered. Laughed. As if this were funny! As if this were a joke! As if Nick didn't spend the first twelve years of his life believing this story was gospel truth in every aspect and part of his family's history. But then, to normal Mammals, that's all it was. A story. Nothing more. 

“Right.” Nick muttered. “Well, Robin Hood and Little John were walking through the forest, laughing and telling jokes back and forth when the king's soldiers came upon them. Goodfellow got an arrow through the hood before they realized they were surrounded. It didn't hit him, just stuck through the top of his green hood. But as soon as the fae realized there were hostile Mammals in his Wood he -uh- he turned them all into dry autumn leaves and scattered them to the wind. That was when Goodfellow took his grievances straight to the Prince. 

“Prince John -by pure happen chance- was touring the kingdom and was passing through Nottinghamshire, one of the fifes that bordered Robin's Wood. Goodfellow disguised himself and Little John as Romani -uh, gypsy- and conned the Prince into stopping the procession so he could get his fortune told. And, remember, a fae's words have power. So, when Goodfellow told Prince John that his name would go down... down... down in history, he was right. It happened. To this day Mammals still call John the First the 'Phony King of England'.”

Judy nodded at that. She might not have known all these details about the story of Robin Hood, but even she had heard John I referred to as the Phony King. There was even a song about it. 'To late to be known as John the First, he's sure to be known as John the Worst...'

“Okay.” Nick sighed, getting impatient with his own story. “So, the rest is a cluster-yiff of being chased around the forest, turning soldiers into leaves, and spiders, and rocks, traps and plots, and an archery contest -oh! Right! I forgot. The important part. Nottingham bordered Sherwood on one side, but the other side was flanked by Loxley and the predator lord who ruled that fife was also a fox -a real fox. Anyway, the lord of Loxley had his niece visiting him from Normandy. The vixen maid Marian Dubois. Goodfellow took a liking to her at first glance and -as should have been implied when I explained that fae are jerks- he kidnapped her and spirited her away into the Wood.”

He paused, gauging his bunny's reaction to that news.

“But they eventually fell in love, right?” Judy insisted. “Maid Marian fell in love with Robin Hood.”

Of course that would be the part she got excited about. What was it about females and only focusing on the romantic details of a story?

Nick shrugged. “If you wanna call it that, sure. By today's standards, that part of the story honestly sounds more like Stockholm Syndrome to me. But foxes mate for life and Marian Dubois was a vixen. By the time Robin might have given her the option to leave the Wood, she wouldn't have wanted to because it would also be leaving her mate.”

“That's so sad!” She placed both paws over his. Looking up into his eyes, were deep amethyst widening with sympathy and other feelings Nick couldn't even begin to name. Damn emotional bunnies, filling him with feelings of his own that confused and frustrated him. “You only get one? For your whole life?”

Was the collar of his uniform to tight? It was suddenly hard to breath. Nick coughed. He pulled his paws out of her grip and turned his chair around. Instead resting his paws on the case holding the Longstride bow.

“Anyway, Goodfellow and Marian had twelve kits together, and Robin's band of Merry Mammals formed a sort of 'secret society' to follow around and interfere with their descendants -the Genii Cucullati. My father was one of the Cucullati assigned to protect my mother and... things happened from there.” A hesitant pause. Then Nick did something completely irrational. Something he'd never done before. He confided a secret about his parents to the little bunny. “I sometimes wonder if John ever really loved my mother or if he thought he was just preforming some duty to the order by insuring that the Longstride line would continue. But then foxes mate for life so... I donno...”

He trailed off.

“Nick...” 

The bunny got up out of her chair and climbed into the fox's lap to give him a reassuring hug. She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so she just held him. Judy would have expected him to freak out and push her out of his lap. Demand what she was doing and remind her that they were at work and not only was this completely unprofessional, but it was also totally inappropriate physical contact given the difference in their species. 

“If I ever had a mate...” Nick muttered into her ear. “...I would want her to be someone who could trust me to love them without conditions or ulterior motives. Just affection, loyalty, and companionship -and I would want them to do the same for me.”

The fox leaned back enough to be able to look the bunny directly in the eyes. Vibrant emerald staring into deep amethyst. 

Judy started back at him, not quite sure how to interpret his words or the soulful look he was giving her. As if begging her to answer a question he hadn't even asked. Not knowing what to do or say, or what he even wanted her to do or say, the bunny lowered her eyes. Her line of vision falling to his chest instead. His tactical vest covered chest. His vest that she unthinkingly scent marked on an impulse. 

Now Judy understood where this was coming from. She placed a paw over the invisible mark she'd chinned into the nylon mesh covering the center plate. “I shouldn't have done that.”

“Does it mean for bunnies what it means for foxes?” He asked. 

Judy crawled off his lap and stood, straitening her uniform. 

“Well, uh, yes. But bunnies don't mate for life to the same extreme that canids do, and-” 

She paused, realizing that she was flustered. Judy took a deep breath to calm herself and bring them back to the matter at paw -the real matter at paw, not their irrelevant game of 'relationship chicken'. Neither one of them had swerved. Instead they both ran headlong into each other, smacking together with all the force and momentum that had built up over the course of their partnership. Colliding in an explosion of brutal, and grotesque feelings-carnage. But their relationship and their feelings weren't what they needed to focus on right now. 

“-and now is not the time or place to have this conversation. I'm not done taking your statement. We haven't established the shooter's motive. This Mammal believes Robin Hood was a fae. They may even believe you have magical powers. Why do they believe they have to kill you?”

Nick seemed to be doing a lot of sighing lately. Even so, the fox found himself heaving yet another sigh as he forced himself to put the question of the scent mark and what it might mean for their relationship aside. He turned spun his chair around, turning his back on the bunny and repeated what John had told him earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exclusively for my readers here on AO3, here is a **DELETED SCENE!**
> 
> ...
> 
> “If I ever had a mate...” Nick muttered into her ear. “...I would want her to be someone who could trust me to love them without conditions or ulterior motives. Just affection, loyalty, and companionship -and I would want them to do the same for me.”
> 
> The fox bent his head down and rubbed the side of his face against the bunny's cheek. 
> 
> Judy almost gasped. Instead she breathed out, “Are you scent marking me?”
> 
> Nick pulled back just enough to look her right in the eyes. Impossible emerald to deep amethyst. “Yes.”
> 
> The bunny wriggled off the fox's lap.
> 
> “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait. Wait just a minute.” For some reason she was breathing hard, short of breath, as if she had just run a mile, or they were just fighting. Her heart was pounding in her throat. Her face felt hot under the fur and she knew her skin must be turning red. “You can't just mark someone at work!”
> 
> Nick also stood. His face -that had previously been open and vulnerable, overflowing with affection and need- was now suddenly suspiciously neutral. Guarded and closed off. The fox jabbed an accusatory claw at the spot she'd chinned earlier. “You marked me first!”
> 
> “I know. I know. I'm sorry.” She attempted to sooth. “I- I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I was just so overwhelmed, I- Nick you'd just been shot! For a moment there I thought you died! I just- I didn't know what I'd do if I lost you. You've become so important to me lately.” Judy took a breath to steady herself. “But, Nick, we can't be mates. We work together. We're partners. It would be a conflict of interest. Its unprofessional! Not to mention the problem of our species-”
> 
> “Oh don't even!” The fox snarled. “Our species never seemed to bother you before when you'd openly leer at my tail. Or did you think I didn't notice?”
> 
> He unvelcrowed the straps of his tactical vest, ripping the article bearing her mark from his chest and threw it on his now vacant desk chair. Now no longer wearing her scent mark Nick moved to storm out of their cubicle.
> 
> But Judy grabbed his arm. “Nick wait! We're not done.”
> 
> He spun around to growl at her. “Yes. We are.”
> 
> She refused to let him go. “No, I mean me taking your statement.” Judy clarified. “You told me the story of Robin Hood and that some Mammals think he was a fae not a fox. But what does that have to do with you? Why would someone want to kill you because of it?”
> 
> His muscles tensed under her paw. His expression remained unreadable. But Judy could tell by the set of his shoulders and tightness of his stance that he was battling with himself if he should stay or if he should go. 
> 
> “The perp's motive will be the first thing the Chief will ask for when I give him my report.” Judy reminded her vulpine partner in the hopes of swaying his decision to stay and finish their conversation. 
> 
> There was a beat of silence. 
> 
> Nick's shoulder's sagged. 
> 
> “There can be only one.” He muttered.
> 
> “Huh?” Judy blinked up at him. 
> 
> The fox turned around to face her and repeated. “There can be only one.”
> 
> The bunny raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding his statement. “Are we quoting Lamb'bert movies now?"


	7. Do You Believe in Magic?

A phone rang.

Its LED screen lighting up the table set between the two uncomfortable hotel beds. The bunny reached for it, but the bed was to large for him, and the room's other occupant, a brown bear, had longer arms and got to it first. 

“This is Cloudkicker.” The bear yawned into the receiver. “Go ahead.”

The bunny raised one ear in an attempt to hear the Mammal on the other end. It sounded like one of those recordings they gave when you were being called from a prison phone or similar line that the callie had to give approval of the contact before the call would actually go through. The bear accepted the call.

“Skip, its me.” John's voice came across, sounding abrupt and impatient -so, basically, his normal self. 

“John?” Skip sat up, turning on a light. “Are you calling from a prison?”

“No. Just holding.” The fox informed him. “Are you and Jack done over there? I might need a little back-up. Nicky's being difficult.”

At that statement, the bear gave a short, humorless laugh. “And you're surprised by that? You and Nicky haven't gotten along since he was fifteen.” 

There was a growl of frustration from the other end and John snapped, “Put Jack on the phone!”

The old tod, apparently, didn't have the patience to be reminded that he had trouble relating to his son and their relationship suffered for it. It was easier when Marian was still alive. She could act as a buffer between John and their kit so that Nick didn't realize how emotionally stinted and affectionately distant his father was, and John didn't have to be troubled by the less appealing aspects of parenthood. 

All that changed, however, when Nick was twelve and Marian was killed. 

Jack crawled to the edge of the bed. The mattress was meant for a Mammal as large as a bear and was easily twelve sizes to large for the bunny buck. He reached a paw out for Skip to pass him the phone. “John, what's going on? What's this about you being in lockup?”

“Not lockup, just holding.” Insisted the fox. “Listen, while I'm in here I can't protect Nicky. He's got his friends on him right now, but they don't know what's going on and-” a pause “-I'd also like it if he had a chaperone.”

“Chaperone?” The bunny blinked, sure he must have mis-heard. Jack sat up in the over-sized bed, smoothing a paw over his sleep matted stripes. “Someone's trying to kill him and you're worried about him making it to third base with some vixen? Priorities, John.”

He might have argued on that point, but phone calls from holding were given only limited time, so instead John said. “I need one of you to keep an eye on Nicky and the other to get me out of here.” 

Jack groaned, pinching the bridge of his snout. “Skip, what's the earliest you can fly us out? We'll be heading for Zootopia.”

“If you don't mind using the Seaduck we can leave as soon as we're packed.” The bear supplied. “If you want something faster, it will have to wait until tomorrow. I know a sky-pirate who owes me a favor, but he's not an early riser.”

“Alright, John. We're on our way.” Jack promised. “Please try and stay out of trouble until we get there.”

The bunny hung up. 

…

“I'm sorry, Wild thinks he's a fairy now?” Delgato stood next to the chief's desk and crossed his arms over his chest, raising one skeptical eyebrow under his main. 

As the investigating officers on the case, they stood in with the chief as Judy gave her oral report -and it was an oral report, no paperwork. Out of respect for her partner, the bunny hadn't written down any part of his statement, and after hearing what the fox had to say, both Delgato and Wolford silently agreed that no paperwork was probably for the best. They didn't need written proof that the ZPD's first fox officer was an embarrassment to the uniform and everyone who wore it. 

“No.” Judy huffed in exasperation, standing up in the single guest chair to be at a closer level with the lion -she was still a far cry shorter than him anyway. “I'm saying that whoever is trying to kill Nick thinks he's descended from a faerie and that's why they're trying to kill him.”

The lion opened his mouth to say something else -most likely another disparaging comment on Nick or about fox spiritual beliefs. But Bogo cut him off before even a word could escape his lips. 

“All Mammals have their own spiritual beliefs.” The cape buffalo reminded the room. “I grew up hearing tales of Apis, the Bull that served as an intermediary between mortal-Mammals and the all-powerful gods Ptah, Osiris, and Atum. Hopps here has already reminded us of the lore that bunnies are supposedly descended from the moon.” Bogo looked up from his desk at Wolford. “Malcolm, I seem to remember you having a bit to much to drink at the Police Ball last year and boring everyone to death about the legend of Fenrisúlfr, the monster wolf that's supposed to bring about Ragnarok. And Delgato-” this time the cape buffalo stood as he glared at the cat “-don't you have a poster of the Nemean Lion in your cubicle?”

The feline officer averted his eyes and muttered under his breath. “Its actually the constellation Leo.”

“I don't care if its mother-yiffing Aslan of Narnia!” Bogo roared. “We are a civil institution and as such, we don't get to have an opinion on what other Mammals believe. The only opinion we get to have is how they act on those beliefs. Our perp has chosen attempted murder -that's what I want my officers to focus on.”

“Yes, sir.” Both wolf and lion straightened. 

“Now, on the subject of Wilde's father...” The cape buffalo sighed, sitting down at his desk. He pulled the older fox's file to him. A very thin red folder that contained literally just the paperwork from when he was process and a receipt for all his many and varied knives (if he was ever allowed to retrieve them from the evidence locker). “Wilde arrested him for obstruction on both this case and his mother's cold case. Has he said anything about either case since he was arrested?”

“No.” Delgato answered. “And when I did ask a question, he tol me to stick my thumb -somewhere inappropriate- and cry for my mommy.”

Bogo groaned again, pinching the bridge of his snout. He was probably wondering just how similar the father was to the son and trying to calculate just how much of a headache it would be trying to get anything useful out of the older tod. “Alright. Wolford, Delgato, stay on the weapon. Wilde said its a crossbow arrow, not a bow arrow. Confirm with the lab and then look into any places that might have sold them within the last six months. Hopps, you have a way with stubborn and obnoxious foxes. See if you can get anything useful out of Wilde's father. Dismissed.”

Wolford and Delgato filed out. Judy hopped down from the guest chair she was standing on. 

“Just a minute, Hopps.” Bogo made her pause. He waited until the door had closed again behind the wolf and lion. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I don't like surprises, Hopps, and you have a habit of out right shocking me. So I'm going to ask you this outright and I expect a similarly frank and clear answer.”

“Chief?” The bunny blinked at him, climbing back into the chair she'd just vacated. 

“I've got a fae to deal with. I don't need any other surprises.” The buffalo reminded her. But when he said 'fae' he said it in a way that made one think he honestly believe that faerie were real and he wasn't about to doubt Nick's claim of being descended from one. “So, are you a Lunar Rabbit?”

“What?” Judy blinked at him. “Of course not. Lunar Rabbits don't exist. Its just a stupid story.”

Bogo held her gaze for a moment longer. My gosh! He was serious! Then the buffalo straightened, clearing his throat as if doing so could clear the awkwardness that had just settled between them. O M Goodness, Chief Bogo believed in faeries, and moon bunnies, and who knew what else. 

“Very well, Hopps. Carry on.”

“Yes, sir.” For a second time she hopped out of the chair and this time left the office for real. 

Judy decided not to dwell much on how weird that last question from the chief was. As he just finished telling Wolford and Delgato, they were civil servants. It wasn't her place to have an opinion on what another Mammal believed, just on how they acted on those beliefs. As far as she could tell, Chief Bogo's views did not interfere with him doing his job, she wouldn't let them interfere with her doing hers either. 

She went down to holding to find John. 

He was in the cell, right where Nick and Delgato left him. Sitting on a cot arguing with the raccoon, Clank, over the spelling of 'through'. One of them insisted it was spelled T-H-R-U, the other was sure it was T-H-R-O-U-G-H. Judy always thought both her correct, just one was worth more points in Scrabble. She coughed conspicuously to get their attention. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to this Wilde.” She unlocked the gate and motioned for John to come out. 

“Its way to early for me to be bailed out.” The fox stood, but didn't move to exit the holding cell. 

For the first time since he appeared in Nick's apartment the previous night, she actually paid attention to how he moved and the way he distributed his weight when he stood. It wasn't all that different from how she was taught to carry her weight at the police academy -during combat training. Keeping on the balls of your feel, keeping your movements light and fluid. He was always wearing fatigue-style pants under his hooded vest, but she just assumed it was a style. Now Judy was beginning to wonder just what kind of Mammal John really was. 

“Its just a few more questions.” She assured the fox. 

John sat back down. “I have nothing to say until my friends come to bail me out.”

Of course he wouldn't talk. From what Nick had told her, a sort of 'secret society' had formed around Robin Hood's descendants and his father was a member of that society. There was no way he was going to tell her anything she didn't already know since she wasn't also a member of the secret. So, she put a patient smile on her face and instead offered. “How about just a few minutes out of this cell?”

“Get out of this cell and, what? Sit in an interrogation room instead?” The old fox did not seem impressed. 

Judy debated with herself. Standard ZPD training taught not to share personal information with persons of interest in a case. Empathize with them, yes. But actually share with them, no. However, the ZPD also taught to build trust and Judy was pretty sure there was no way should could build trust with this older and moodier version of Nick unless she shared something of herself. So, the bunny offered John her paw. “Fine then. No questions. How about we just talk. I'll tell you about Nick? Aren't you interested to know how he became a cop?”

John did not have as good a poker face as his son did. He did want to know how Nick became a police officer. A flash of interest streaked across his face. The fox looked back at his cell mate. Clank certainly wasn't very interesting conversation. Might as well learn a bit more about his estranged son. 

“Fine, bunny.” He growled. “But you're also going to tell me exactly why you marked my son and what your intensions are to him.”

She inwardly cringed. Nick asked her -more of less- the same question (though with far less accusation in his tone). Judy imagined that it was question Mammals would continue to ask her until she finally gave a clear and definitive answer. Thankfully, Bogo (her and Nick's supervisor) hadn't asked her about it yet. But then, he was probably practicing off the same order of priorities that she was. Case first, personal relationship between officers later.

Either answer it now or answer it later after the case. One way or another, Judy would have to answer the question of why she marked Nick and what she wanted from him.

Heaving another sigh, the bunny locked the cell back after John and lead the fox down the corridor back to the interrogation rooms.

John sauntered into the room as if he owned it and took the officer's seat, back to the two-way mirror. 

Suppressing a sigh, Judy shrugged, closing the door behind them and took the seat meant for the perp. She put a pleasant smile on her face. “What would you like to know, Mr. Wilde?”

He didn't dance around topics for mince words. John just dove right in. “I will not allow you to marry my son.” He announced. “In case you didn't know, foxes mate for life and Nick needs to take a mate who can continue his bloodline.”

“That would be the Robin Hood bloodline.” Judy concluded. “The one you believe to be descended from a fae lord.”

The fox was genuinely surprised by that. His green eyes went wide and he blinked across the table at the bunny. “He told you about that? He doesn't tell anyone about that.”

Admittedly, Nick only told her any of that because she didn't give him much of a choice. After getting shot right in front of your partner, she's owned some kind of explanation. Never mind the fact that his job may or may not also depend on his cooperation in her questioning. So... yeah. Nick didn't tell her that some believed he was descended from a faerie because he wanted to, he told her because he had to. 

But Judy wasn't going to tell John that. “Yes. Nick told me.”

The shock and disbelief on the fox's face quickly morphed into concern. Legitimate worry. He glared across the interrogation table at the bunny. “How close are you and Nicky already? He hasn't marked you.” 

If felt like there was a silent 'yet' after that. It hung in the air between them awkwardly.

Judy coughed. 

John lifted an eyebrow at the bunny's clear discomfort. He didn't know which part it was that bothered her more, the fact that Nicky didn't mark her back, or the fact that John was demanding details on the nature of their relationship. The the old tod was disturbed to realize that both filled him with equal worry. Nicky could not mate with a bunny. John wouldn't allow it. 

Judy cleared her throat. 

“Um, when was the last time you and Nick talked?” She got the distinct impression that they hadn't spoken in a very long time. 

John gave her a tight lipped glare. 

She rested an elbow on the table, leaning in, one ear flopping over in front of her face. “Mr. Wilde, if you want me to answer any of your questions you have to answer some of mine. When was the last time you and Nick spoke?”

The fox growled. Then, reluctantly, admitted. “We parted ways when Nicky was eighteen. He was legally an adult and didn't want my help anymore. I wrote him a couple letters after that but we really haven't talked since then.”

“So then, you don't even know how Nick saved the city.” Judy decided to lead with that. Make his son out to be the hero and play on John's pride and vanity. It seemed to work, he looked at her with interest. As she noted before, John's pokerface was no where near as good as Nick's. She could see quite clearly exactly when and how she got to him. “Its actually how he and I met. Would you like to hear the story?”

That look of interest quickly shifted to suspicion. “And what do I have to do for this information you're so ready to volunteer?”

“Who's trying to kill Nick?” The bunny asked outright. 

“An archer.” The fox answered -it was technically the truth, even if it wasn't the answer the bunny wanted. 

“I don't supposed I'm lucky enough that 'Archer' is his name.” Judy muttered. 

“No. It's not.” John agreed. “My turn. How did my Nicky save the city?”

“He and I exposed a conspiracy that was dividing the city.” Judy supplied, then without pause pressed on. “Nick says the Mammal who's trying to kill him is doing so because he thinks Nick is part fae, but why would they want to kill a fae.”

“You wouldn't understand even if I told you.” John assured her.

“Try me.” The bunny challenged. 

The fox glared at her from across the table. Green eyes hard and skeptical. But he accepted the challenge anyway. “He doesn't want to kill Nicky because Nicky's a fae. He wants to kill Nicky because he wants to become a fae. How did Nicky expose this conspiracy?”

“We tricked the boss into confessing on tape -and in the room full of cops. How will killing Nick turn this other Mammal into a fae?”

John seemed to ignore her question. “That seems awfully lucky, managing to trick the leader of a city-wide conspiracy into just up and confessing their plan. One might even say, uncommonly lucky.”

“Well, sure, I guess.” Judy shrugged. 

Come to think of it, a lot of that last misadventure with the Night Howlers hinged on sheer dumb luck. Just happening to have an established friendship with a crime lord that could coerce Weaselton into talking them what they needed to know, kicking the three rams out of the lab, the disused subway car the lab was in actually being functional, making that turn instead of smacking headlong into the other on-coming train -even if they still did jump the track- Nick managing to save the case with the gun so that not all of the evidence was destroyed, Bogo and the rest of Precent One being drawn by the commotion of the train crash and showing up just in time to hear Bellweather's confession... Yes, it was all very lucky. Absurdly lucky. 

Judy liked to think of herself as a mostly rational Mammal. But with all this talk of faerie, and magic, and the paranormal, she just might be willing to be talked into thinking it was some kind of supernatural 'fairy luck' that was helping them the whole time. It was a silly idea and Judy knew it. But with Mammals claiming Nick was some kind of fae prince, it made a strange kind of sense. Judy wasn't about to admit that out loud, of course. She liked having her peers and other Mammals respected her and her opinions. 

“Now, how will killing Nick turn this other Mammal into a fae?”

“He thinks the magic will be transferred to him.” John finally answered. “Has Nick displayed any other examples of unbelievable luck -or other uncommon talents?”

“Magic? What magic? Nick doesn't have magic.” Magic didn't exist -right? For some reason, Judy wasn't quite so sure anymore. 

“That's not how we agreed this would work, darlin'.” John shook his head. “I already answered your question. Now its my turn. Have there been any other instances of Nick having uncommon luck or impossible talents?”

Judy paused thinking. Now that he put the idea in her head, she was looking back on their adventures together and seriously examining them. She did seem to have an uncommon number of luck breaks when she was with Nick. Most memorable of which was in the Rainforest District and being stopped from falling to their deaths not once, not twice, but three times within the space of two minutes. Conveniently placed vines to swing into from the platform, optimally placed leaved large enough to catch them and slow their fall, and then yet more vines to wined around them and finally halt their fall before they could splat on the pavement. All very lucky. 

And that made another thought occur to her. “Hey, Mr. Wilde, Robin Hood is supposed to be Puck, right?”

“You still haven't answered my question, little missy.” John growled, beginning to sound annoyed. 

“Bear with me for a sec, okay.” Judy insisted. “Puck is also called the 'Lord of the Greenwood', right?”

“Yeah...” The fox confirmed slowly. 

Now that Judy was seriously thinking about it, that instance in the Rainforest District really was just to damn lucky. What were the chances of Mammals as small as them being caught and their lives saved by foliage, never mind more than once, never mind three times? And wasn't there a thing about threes in faerie mythology too? Judy could barely believe the next words that came out of her mouth, but she was completely serious when she met John's eyes and said, “Actually, I think Nick might have magic. He just doesn't know he has magic.”


End file.
